


Sweet Honey Ice Tea

by MitzyBlue



Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Alien Cultural Differences, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Eventual Romance, F/M, Multi, Original Character(s), POV Alternating, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Burn, Slow To Update, UA, Universe Alteration
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2019-02-27
Packaged: 2019-05-09 16:02:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 24,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14719215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MitzyBlue/pseuds/MitzyBlue
Summary: ((THIS IS THE REWRITE OF 'PROTECTOR'-- MY OLD VERY FIRST WRITING ATTEMPT! PLEASE READ THIS INSTEAD!!!))Pashera R. Shepard is many things, but above all she is a protector. Wielding a shield of pure determined spite, she will cleave her way through the stars towards her goals. Along the way she will gain a family and friends. Bonds, unbreakable and faith unshakable-- who am I kidding, you all know who Shepard is and why you're here. Go! Read the romance! Conquer! Win! (But bring tissues because there are occasions that I've even made myself cry and I will try not to abuse that power.)♥





	1. The Catalyst

**Author's Note:**

> ~ The Catalyst ~
> 
> _ Cat·a·lyst: (noun) a substance that increases the rate of a chemical reaction without itself undergoing any permanent chemical change or a person or thing that precipitates an event. _

 

 

~*~*~

Joker twisted in his chair to see the commander coming to stand next to him. The black curls of her hair had been locked away for the day behind her typical soft blue headwrap that matched her eyes and, in his humble opinion, played nicely off her dark skin. It was the only thing about her really that played nicely though.

“Did you catch that, commander?” he asked with a forced smile before turning stiffly back to resume watching the screens.

“No.” Her eerie pale eyes flicked behind her visor as she began her check over the morning cycle’s logs and her voice was devoid of emotion as she asked, “Something important?”

It was the same routine that she’d maintained since the day of launch a week prior. Never speaking more than a word here or there to the crew members though she interacted with them all on some level. Comradery or some shit. Really, he was just glad when she wasn’t standing over him in the cockpit-- there is little more terrifying that having the Butcher of Torfan being the commanding officer.

Of course, he never expected someone with that title to be pretty or, frankly speaking, that short. Curbing his inner musings, he nodded amiably and typed a small course correction as he said, "Captain said to send you his way. Comm room."

“Understood.”

Her boots snapped on the metal walkway with her abrupt turn. She was gone as quickly as she'd come and he breathed a not-so-subtle sigh of relief much to the amusement of this co-pilot for that shift.  Kaidan snorted from beside him. "Oh, come on, you can't still be convinced that--"

"That what?" Joker interrupted as he launched into his old rant, "She's the commanding officer. She _has_ to have seen the files. She checks those logs every time I'm on shift--"

"And the captain checks during the secondary cycle, Joker. Now why would they be trying to find some sort of 'fault' when Captain Anderson was the one who vouched for and requested you?"

Joker grumbled and tugged at his hat. It was an old argument-- one that they'd repeated almost every day for a week since being paired together first shift-- but he'd learned in his very dedicated school years that a little bit of paranoia never hurt when it came to his own skin.

Kaidan pressed on regardless, " _AND_ it's a shakedown run on an experimental ship. You know as well as I do--"

“That’s just it though,” Joker interrupted, “We all compile our logs and send them in every shift change but the commander insists on checking them _here._ You have to admit _that's_ fishy."

Kaidan rolled his eyes before turning back to his own screen and punching in his sign out code. “Whatever man, I’m taking a ten. Be right back.”

Joker gave a nod, happy to drop the conversation as Kaidan nearly jogged away. Kaidan had been fighting a migraine since the previous day-cycle thanks to a flair with his implant and Joker would have bet that he was actually taking a quick run down to the medbay and not just taking a break to hit the head. Of course, he prefered these little moments of having the cockpit to himself. He'd worked hard for it after all and lately, it just felt like he had a series of babysitters waiting for him to forget to brush his teeth just once.

Did they think he was gonna go rogue and steal it again? He’d only done it ONCE to prove that he was the pilot they needed and damn if it didn’t work… but sometimes he wondered if they’d just given him the position to prove that he’d fail. Failure wasn’t an option though. It hadn’t been an option in school either and he’d proved that to all the ‘jokers’ out there.

With a relieved huff, he flicked one of the observation panels on to check on the folks in navigation. The commander apparently hadn't reached comm room yet thanks to being waylaid by Navigator Pressly who was a chatty cathy with everyone but the turian Spectre. On the viewscreen, Joker could see that the commander had that same-as-always stony expression on her face as she looked over the star map and nodded as Pressly said something. From this angle, the scar -- not the one across her throat but the one that that spanned from her temple across her nose and all the way to her cheek-- was more prominent. It was probably just the light off the star chart they were near and Joker had to wonder if they were making judgments on why he'd corrected their course yesterday. Anyone with half a brain knew what the old asteroid trail he’d avoided would do even with the improved mass effect field that this ship had, and he'd mentioned his reason in his last report but now he couldn't help but worry. Of course, wondering at it did him no favours and he knew that even as he prepared a nice mental argument for if someone approached him on it later.

Joker watched as the commander finally moved on, and when she finally disappeared into the comm room he patched himself in-- as usual-- in case he was needed. It was amazing at what he could listen in on when people forgot that he ‘technically’ was supposed to monitor most of the ship along with the VI to patch calls or keep tabs on where someone-- _especially a commanding officer_ \-- was in case of an emergency.

"Commander Shepard," Nihlus' voice was the first to speak through Joker's commlink as he patched in. "I was hoping you'd get here first. To talk."

Joker didn't have access to the camera in the comm room so he couldn't see who all was there  but he liked to think that he had a pretty good imagination and could guess what was going on as Shepard's footsteps made an even path down the ramp and she said, "Without the Captain?"

“He’s on his way,” Nihlus said, his voice humming with amusement.

The guy was weird-- even by turian standards-- so Joker wasn't sure he could even guess what the Spectre found funny. Afterwards, the conversation seemed a little boring but Joker wasn't sure if that was because of the commander's monosyllabic answers or simply because it was a boring conversation. Joker could almost picture her standing there stiffly with her usual expression that made stone walls look friendly until the sound of the doors opening again pre-alerted Joker to Captain Anderson's voice cutting in.

“Ah, we’re all here. Good.”

“Captain.” Commander Shepard said stiffly while at the same time Spectre Nihlus said, “Anderson.”

“Shepard, as I’m sure you’ve guessed, this mission is more than a shakedown cruise--” _No shit_ , Joker thought with an eyeroll. Most of the ship was already suspecting that thanks to there being a Spectre onboard and the fact that they’d been out for over a week ‘testing’ the systems before heading for Eden Prime-- “Now that we’ve confirmed the working status of the ship we will be beginning a stealth mission.”

The commander, of course, was silent so Joker guessed that she'd nodded. When the silence began to linger he started thinking that perhaps instead of nodding she'd simply killed everyone in the room and was now going to purge the rest of the ship like some bad horror movie and he'd have to figure out how to save them all by trapping her in the airlock and blasting her into space where they'd then find that she was not, in fact, human but a military android. Damn his sister for getting him hooked on that stupid movie series...

Joker snapped out of his weird daydream when one of the nearby terminals flashed a data-access log and Spectre Nihlus broke the silence, "The stealth system has performed well above what was predicted. With luck, this pick-up should-- what is that human phrase? Go off without a hitch?"

Rolling his eyes, Joker flicked his acknowledgement signature onto the access log. Turians pretended to hate humans but they adored their idioms enough to constantly attempt to adopt them. It was as humorous as it was kinda sad since the turians didn't view the first contact war as an actual WAR but more like a playground scuffle. It made the little things like trying to use human idioms seem more sarcastic than friendly. Then again, that might be more because Joker didn't like Nihlus. The Spectre was about as stiff as the commander and he laughed at strange things like some sort of supervillain.

“We’re to be picking up a beacon on Eden Prime,” Anderson said in that very familiar briefing tone of voice that every commanding officer got during meetings. “It’s thought to be similar to the one found on Mars.”

“However,” Nihlus cut in, “as important as the beacon may be, that isn’t the only reason I’m here.”

Silence.

Were they expecting an applaud from her? That she would adjust that sniper’s visor that she never took off and say, ‘ _Oh yes, Spectre sir I’m so surprised please wow me with your sneakiness?_ ’ Joker hid his laugh at the idea of the emotionless commander speaking that way behind a cough as he shifted in his seat.

“Commander,” Anderson’s voice moved about the room's speakers and Joker pictured that he was maybe pacing or maybe trying to outrun her creepy ice-blue stare by moving to the other side of the room, “the Alliance, and thus humanity is hoping to advance in the eyes of the council. We’re hoping a human Spectre will help advance that goal.”

There was a slight pause that Nihlus jumped into like a waiting cat. “I’ve followed your career path, Shepard. To be honest, I’m impressed. Which is why I personally submitted your name for candidacy and the request to be the one to evaluate you.”

“ _Dhanyavaad,_ ” was Shepard’s stiff reply.

It wasn’t Galactic Standard so it took Joker’s translator a minute to kick in with an eerie replication of her voice saying ‘thank you’ just as the comm officer’s line flashed up on one of his screens and they said, “Joker, uh, Sir, emergency frequency from Eden Prime.”

“Technically, you outrank me but thanks for calling me sir,” he muttered under his breath as he opened the frequency.

It was a shit communication connection and it was so brief that he didn’t even have much time to think before he activated his own comm with his open line already established to the room with Anderson and the others as he said, “Captain, We’ve got a problem. Transmission from Eden Prime, sir. You need to see this.”

“Bring it onscreen,” Anderson directed with that hardass ‘ _I’m about to make you eat your damn gun if this isn't important_ ’ tone that made ensigns cry themselves to sleep at night.

God, he loved the Normandy’s modern holo screens. They were way more responsive than the ones he’d trained on in the academy and the VI was easier to work with as well, so he already had the message loaded up before Anderson even asked. He watched it again as it played for them-- waiting for orders and feeling a mixture of excited and violently ill as gunfire and heavy fighting played in his comm.

What did higher officers think when they saw things like this? Were they just numb to it? Was this just another Tuesday viewing for someone like their commander or did the stonewall special feel as green as he did when a splatter of blood and the dead face of a soldier filled the screen before the connection was lost. Swallowing down the bile and keeping his voice a professional steady, Joker said, “Everything cuts out after that, sir. No comm traffic at all.”

Three heartbeats before Anderson, his voice sounding more dead-pan scary than normal, said, “Reverse the feed and hold... there at 38.5 seconds.”

Obedient as any well-trained dog, Joker swirled his hand through the recording until the requested spot and stared at the image. He’d somehow missed it the first couple times-- too distracted by the screaming and dying-- but now that he saw it, it had his full attention.

“Ship?” the Commander asked.

“Possible. Status report, Joker.”

Joker’s hands flew as fast as his mind as he pulled the holographic panels around and read off information as he answered, “We’re seventeen minutes out, Captain. No other Alliance ships in the area, but I can broadcast--”

“No. Just take us in. Fast and quiet. I want stealth systems fully engaged,” Anderson’s voice dropped and moved within the room before he continued, “... this mission just got a little more complicated. Shepard--” Whatever was unsaid had her boots tapping briskly away before Anderson continued, “Joker, tell Alenko and Jenkins to suit up and be in the hold for briefing in five.”

“Yessir.”

 

*~~K~~*

 

Kaidan stood still over Joker’s seat, staring at the frozen image and feeling a little ill. The paradise planet-- the jewel of successful colonies-- now had a blood-colored sky thanks to the smoke and there was that ship hanging in the air like a giant hand. A frozen picture of hell.

“Joker, tell Alenko and Jenkins to suit up and be in the hold for briefing in five.” Anderson’s voice snapped.

“Yessir,” Joker said while turning his chair, already reaching for his crutches and intending to get up.

When Joker saw Kaidan he jumped, flopping back into his chair with a surprised grunt and a hand over his chest. “Geezus man. Speak up next time.”

“Sorry,” Kaidan said with an apologetic forced smile before asking, “did he say Jenkins?”

Joker nodded, turning away and typing out information rapidly, “Yup. Hold in five for briefing.”

Kaidan tossed Joker the already warmed snack-pack that he’d snagged from the galley after checking in with the medical doctor, Chakwas. She’d ordered him to eat to keep up his sugar levels to avoid a biotic drop but he’d probably have to resort to a nutrition bar during the briefing instead. Joker caught it, the surprise on his face the only indication that it was more reflex than intent before he whistled. “Damn Alenko, if I knew you felt this way I would have bought flowers--”

“Oh shut up.” Kaidan said while typing in his code to fully sign out for the rest of his shift, “I just can’t eat that during a briefing.”

Already tearing into the bag of rehydrated asari sweets, Joker gave him a thumbs up before jerking it towards the hall. Taking the silent reminder, Kaidan waved and jogged away, heading for first Jenkins and then their lockers. The commander was already there by the time they slid down the ladders and he watched as she knelt on one knee in a corner with her hands clasped out of view.

“I heard she prays like that before every mission,” Jenkins whispered while tugging on his own bodysuit. “What religion do you think it is?”

Kaidan shrugged, trying not to appear like he was just as curious and straining to hear the whispered words that snaked out of the corner. Religions were as common as shoes-- and just as varied out here in space so it was anyone's guess what it might be. As he suited up he tried to listen in but only small snatches could be heard over the sounds of Jenkins and himself as they pulled on their armour.

“-- air, and time- protect and guide us… --act in wisdom and guide our hands--”

Jenkin’s closed his locker with a crash and gave an awkward laugh as he apologised and headed over to do some stretching before the briefing began. The commander’s prayer seemed to be near its end by the time Jenkins finally stopped making enough noise for Kaidan to hear again.

“Guide me, and should I fall-- guide the one who takes my sword from the dust to carry as their own.”

Peculiar. He made a quick note of the prayer snatches he’d heard in his omnitool for research later-- it was an old hobby to research religions-- before finishing up his armour and snagging a nutrition bar from his personal stash before quietly closing the locker. 

The briefing was, as they say,  short and sweet before the Spectre, Nihlus was leaping from the still moving craft and Captain Anderson stood gripping the cargo netting as he shouted over the hurricane-like winds.

“You are to establish an omni-link once planetside and maintain radio silence. Understood?”

Most of the commander’s face was blocked from view thanks to her helmet but he could see her lips and the small scar at the corner of them through the open slit as she gave a sharp nod and said, “Yessir.”

Anderson nodded back, his face softening as he stared at the Commander. The look was just long enough for Kaidan to wonder if the rumours of them being secret lovers were true, but then the ship settled into a partial landing and Anderson began making his way farther back into the cargo hold as he waved and said, “The mission is yours, Commander.”

She too lingered in watching the captain a little longer than might have been appropriate before she gave a silent signal for everyone to move out. Their feet weren’t even a moment on the planet before the Normandy was pulling away again and they were sprinting for a small outcropping of rock.

Crouched like teens trying to break curfew, Shepard opened up her omnitool and nodded to each of them as she held up her fingers in a silent countdown. 3...2...1-- _syncing_ \-- **connection established** \-- local map scans blinked as they became available along with several warnings that the planet’s communication network was down so they’d be operating off the private comm link established by omni-link and proximity. They all scrolled through the information silently. Jenkins didn’t bother looking at the map-- likely since he’d grown up nearby-- instead Kaidan noticed that he spent the time looking over registered outgoing communication logs while Kaidan and Shepard both tried to get an idea of where to head and ‘how far’. Probably looking for a sign of his family if Kaidan had to put in a guess but without the network he knew the effort was useless.

Once they were finished, they set out again. The air carried the thick scent of house fires mixed with someone overdoing the meat at a barbeque. It was a gut-twisting realization when they passed a couple of burned corpses and he realized that the ‘barbeque’ smell was from people instead of ruined steaks.

Cresting a ridge, they were able to look down into the valley that once held one of the larger towns on the planet. It was in ruins. Buildings burned and there was a scant smattering of bodies sprawled unmoving in the streets.

“Oh god,” Jenkins whispered with wide eyes. His pale face was somehow three shades whiter than normal as they all stared at the spiralling towers of smoke that climbed into the sky and Alenko was forcefully reminded that the man was native to this colony as Jenkin gave a hoarse whisper, “Who could do this?”

The commander’s hand clasped Jenkin’s shoulder, pulling his attention to her face as she said, “Grieve later. I need your mind here and now. You fit to scout?”

Behind the neck of the tight bodysuit, Kaidan could see the bob of Jenkin’s adam’s apple before he nodded. “Yessir.”

They trudged down the hill and set out along the river. Kaidan didn't really mind being waist deep in muck but he did prefer to SEE his footing. However, the captain wanted them to keep a low profile and hiding their tracks with the river was the best option for now so he brushed one of the vines from his shoulder and struggled onwards. At least, he did until the vine snaked back over his shoulder with a chirp.

He couldn’t quite help the involuntary sound he made as he scrambled away from the creature that was floating next to him. Its little green body was suspended in the air like a floating bag of fungus as it’s spindly little vine-legs paddled the air frantically as it tried to get away from him. When he got his vocal cords under control he couldn’t help but screech whisper, “What. The hell. Is that?!”

Jenkins, who was covering a laugh, choked out, “Gas bag. They’re harmless.”

And then it popped.

The remains plopped into the river as Kaidan stared in horror.

“Uh,” Jenkins continued in a loud whisper, “don’t touch the bag though-- and if they’re startled they do that. I can see a herd of them up ahead so we should probably go around them…”

Silent as a mountain cat, Shepard eased from the water and crouched on one of the stones-- eyeing the area before she waved them forward. It was a handful of minutes before she held up a hand for them to stop and tilted her head. “...smell that?”

Kaidan obediently sniffed while trying to ignore the fact that the burnt meat smell was him breathing PEOPLE. It smelled the same for the most part-- smoke, burnt rubber, singed metal, and crispy human. Jenkins looked a little green as he shook his head. The slit in the helmet that exposed Shepard’s lips now showed her frown as she looked between them. Her signal to move forward ‘with caution’ was made like a suspicious cat trying to figure out a new object.

What happened next was a blur. One moment, they were dodging behind stones and making their way carefully up a hillside and the next Jenkins’ scream was cut short as he dropped and gunfire peppered the area. Kaidan reacted on impulse and training, firing two shots with his pistol before smacking it into the clip on his leg to free his hand. While he biotically grabbed one of the new floating machines and slammed it into another, his free hand grabbed Jenkins’ body by the back collar. The commander covered his retreat, picking off the last few as he dragged Jenkins to safety.

Except Jenkins wasn’t safe.

Kaidan knew before he started up his omnitool link that there was nothing he could do. Jenkins had been dead before he even hit the ground just like the soldier in the message from Eden Prime he’d seen Joker playing for the Captain. Shepard knelt next to the body as Kaidan confirmed the knowledge with a medical scan and shook his head at her. She nodded, gloved hand slipping under Jenkin’s visor to close what was left of his eyes as she spoke softly, “Home of the child, this one returns to your embrace. May they find peace in their path.”

Her hands were the steady of someone who’d seen more battles and deaths than he wanted to contemplate even as she began to strip the body of necessaries and said, “We will see that he receives a proper service once the mission is complete. Mark the location and tag a drone for pick-up. We need to move but I want Officer Postle to examine these weapons.”

It felt wrong stripping the body like that but he did as he was asked, making Jenkins’ dog tags into a databeacon on their omnitool link and dragging a drone to sit beside the body before they moved on.  The comms crackled and Nihlus’ voice spoke over their linked lines, “ _Shepard-- Lot of hostiles. Lot of bodies. No survivors so far. I’ll meet with you at the dig site. ETA ten minutes._ ”

Shepard slowly drew her sniper rifle and it unfolded in her hands before she crouched and used the scope to sweep the area. When she pulled her head away she asked, “Biotic?”

Kaidan nodded, keeping his own gaze on the path behind them. She had probably read his file before this so he wasn’t sure why she was asking. “Yeah.”

“Hm…” she resumed her scouting of the path ahead while asking another question, “can you do a shield over yourself?”

He nodded again when he caught the tilt of her head that meant she was likely looking at him. The steady shimmer of blue flickered above his armour as he concentrated and he was rewarded by her own nod as she focused once more on the view of her scope. “Open area ahead. Way looks clear…”

Something about how she said it made him ask, “but?”

Her head tilted and he realized she was sniffing the air again. Testing it like a hound on the hunt. “Air seems off. ...like an electric fence.”

Kaidan sniffed again. This time he realized that he could smell it too. Behind the other odours of the area, there was a scent similar to the faint smell of a strong biotic field or that smell that thunderstorms sometimes got. Like the air was charged or there was fresh metal nearby. Besides the smell, he noticed that everything was a deadly quiet. No bird calls. Just the tickling sigh of the wind as it whispered through the leaves of the grove ahead and far-off gunfire.

“More drones?” He asked.

“Maybe. ...gonna need to sprint.”

He glanced at the clearing that was between them and the grove. Without their guide to lead them around the area they had to forge a straight path to their goal and this was a verifiable kill zone if those drones were waiting. Then the pops of gunfire sounded from somewhere ahead. The commander met his gaze and gave another jerk of her head towards the grove-- the only warning before she vaulted the rocks and sprinted across the open area.

Kaidan followed, rolling off the rock with a vague non-directional prayer that they weren’t about to run into an ambush. Dodging through the far side of the grove was a colony soldier being pursued by more of the unfamiliar drones. Doing a quick crouch walk with one arm up to brace the barrel of her sniper on a custom slot on her wrist guard, the commander was already glaring down her scope, picking them off one at a time with clean shots as Kaidan joined in. The soldier, hearing their gunfire, made a sprint towards them and slid softball style into cover beside Kaidan who wordlessly passed them his spare. It wasn’t long before the three of them had decimated the swarm and nothing but shattered metal and sparking husks remained.

Everyone unfurled from their cover spots like slowly blooming flowers and the commander gestured to a slightly safer looking outcropping of rock. Kaidan kept a careful eye on their six, taking up the rear behind the soldier who limped after Shepard. Once they were in cover, the soldier saluted and leaned against the rocks as they spoke, “Gunnery Chief Williams of the 212. You the one in charge, ma’am?”

Shepard nodded and switched places with Kaidan to watch their flank as he knelt beside the soldier's leg. It was a nasty wound but they weren't bleeding thanks to the flesh being cauterized by the blast of whatever new weapon these drones were using. As he worked to patch up the soldier, Shepard said, "I am Commander Shepard. Here to retrieve the beacon. Is the 212 down range or...?"

The soldier shook her head, "No, ma'am. We were on patrol when the attack hit. Tried to double back towards the beacon and walked into an ambush. Pretty sure I'm the only one left."

Another nod from Shepard before she leaned out of the hiding space to glance around. "Way is clear. Able to keep up, Williams?”

Williams nodded, the muscle in her jaw working as she straightened and gave Kaidan a small thumbs up in thanks. He repeated the gesture with a smile before nodding for her to fall in line behind Shepard so that he could take up the rear. Like any good soldier, Williams fell in without question as she gestured towards the way she'd originally come. "The dig site is maybe 800 meters or so north-west of our position, ma'am.”

Shepard nodded, her back to them and her rifle still out as she said, “We sync-and-link at the dig site.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And Chief,” Shepard paused, glancing over her shoulder, “Stop calling me ma’am.”

“Yessir,” Williams said without missing a beat before shooting Kaidan a raised brow.

As Shepard forged ahead, scouting through the scope of her rifle, Kaidan introduced himself with a nod, “Staff Lieutenant Alenko.”

“Pleasure. ...She said Shepard, right? Is that…?” Williams faded off while glancing at Shepard.

Kaidan nodded as they trotted to their next position and tucked down behind some rocks after Shepard gave them the signal to wait as she stealthed and slunk ahead. Once the Commander was gone he answered, “ _The_ Shepard? Yeah.”

“Like… Torfan Shepard?”

Kaidan raised a brow though he knew it was likely hidden behind his helmet’s visor. Williams seemed to understand regardless as she cast the direction the commander had gone a glance and muttered, “well damn.”

The Commander slid down one of the near outcroppings, foot outstretched to catch herself as she zoomed into view with a slight cloud of dust as she said, “If you two are done tongue-wagging we have incoming.” As she dashed out of cover and over to a separate outcropping, Kaidan could hear her muttered comment as it filtered over the comms, “...would have thought the N7 armour gave it away…”

Kaidan didn’t have time to chuckle as he dashed out and biotically grabbed the first enemy he saw to toss them into the next. Midway through t the battle, Nihlus’ voice cut in through the comms, “ _Shepard, dig’s empty. I’m pressing ahead to the spaceport nearby. We’ll rendezvous there instead._ ”

Nearby, Shepard’s angry mutter carried with what sounded like a curse. “... _kisee kaam ka nahin_ …” ‘Damn all,’ was the only translation that chirped out afterwards as she rolled from cover and flared with the bright blue of biotics as she charged the last enemy.

Kaidan and Williams trotted up to where she stood peering down at the dig site from the ridge.

"Commander?" Williams called.

Shepard passed a hand under her visor--perhaps wiping away sweat-- as she turned back to them. She trudged towards them, looking short and tired as she dug a couple familiar looking standard biotic field bars and tossed one to Kaidan, "We head for the spaceport next. Take a moment to sync. Biotic refuel. ...Williams, last time you ate?"

"Yesterday 19-hundred , M-- Sir." Williams answered. "What about the beacon?"

It took Kaidan a moment to remember she wasn’t linked into the comms yet so she hadn’t heard Nihlus’ update. As the Commander tossed the second bar at Williams before returning to crouching at the lip of the ridge with her rifle drawn Kaidan said, "It’s not here."

Biting the packet to free his hands, Kaidan opened his omnitool and looked expectantly at Williams who quickly mimicked him. The sync tied her local files in and he was able to get better access to her health readings along with some local info and topography that hadn’t been available due to the local networks being down. Chewing a bite from the ration bar and taking a position near Shepard, he looked over their route options.

“Commander.” She didn’t shift at the sound of his voice but he continued anyhow after he’d swallowed his mouthful, “mind if I use your scope?”

She pulled away, flicking her visor back down as she passed him her rifle. Accepting it with a nod, he aimed it towards their destination. According to the updated map, the spaceport was another mile or so just past the hill that should have housed most of the researchers for the dig. Instead, it was littered with bodies impaled on spikes like a grotesque museum bug display.

He swung the scope away from the horror show to check the surrounding area for an alternate route but the prospects were slim. One side had a visible gathering of robots and drones. The other, a steep cliff with the world’s native version of a wasp nest. Sighing, he handed the rifle back and said, “Best route is through the old research camp.”

Shepard nodded, shifting the rifle to its normal position as she said, “Looks like a...” her hand fluttered open and closed before she said, “ _phanda_?”

‘ _Noose_?’ was the translation that followed behind and he supplied, “Trap?”

Shepard gave another small nod before turning her attention back to whatever she’d been watching as she asked, “everyone synced and ready?”

"As we'll ever be, sir." Williams said as she crouch-walked to kneel nearby with them. "The spaceport you said?"

"Yes."

“ _Shepar--_ **_CZZT_ ** _\--_ ” A cut off message from Nihlus sputtered on the comm before cutting to silence and Alenko shared a glance with the Commander.

With haste, they were entering the burned research camp and the commander's theory that it was a trap proved to be true. Of course, he wasn't sure anyone could have predicted that the trap was the bodies. Twisted into horrific synthetic abominations they surrounded them like a mob of old horror movie monsters. It was only the Commander's sweeping blow of biotics that really saved them from being overwhelmed.

"Get close!" She yelled while already glowing a violent blue.

Kaidan and Williams scrambled to comply; kicking, punching, and shooting their way through the increasing hoard to form a pocket of safety behind the commander. She let loose-- a violent wave that bubbled outwards and tossed the bodies away. Some crunched into the burning huts while others dropped off the nearby cliff. The few that remained lay struggling on the ground as the commander waved everyone to run and they sprinted down the hill.

Thankfully the remainders of the shambling corpses didn't seem interested in following them and they were within sight of the spaceport when their pace slowed once more to a more stealthy prowl. Kaidan kept a close eye both on the surroundings and the heavily limping Williams. The Chief was doing a good job to try and hide it but she'd gotten another nasty blow to her wound thanks to the armour having been shot to scrap previously.

The commander seemed nervous as they approached, stopping often to check the area through her scope as they approached. At the top of the hill, she paused before gesturing for Kaidan to come over. Wordlessly she passed him the rifle with a gesture at the port. Peering through the scope he could see what the issue was. The port was like a synthetic zombie minefield and near some crates, he could see… turian blood? It puddled outwards but he couldn’t be sure.

“Think it’s Nihlus, sir?” he asked, starting to pass the rifle back.

She pressed it back towards him as she rubbed at her nose with a gloved hand and to his surprise, grimaced. “Possible.”

Williams squatted nearby, pistol in the air as she asked, “who’s Nihlus?”

The commander nodded at Kaidan before giving the signal to wait again as she flickered from view. Taking the hint, Kaidan peered down the scope again. He’d been trained to use one of course but he was nowhere as good a shot as Shepard. He answered William’s question as he swept the area for movement, “Spectre. Supposed to meet him at the spaceport.”

“Hn. Turian?”

“Mhn.” He answered as he picked up the shimmer of Shepard’s cloak as it dropped. She’d taken up a position near one of the burned buildings and was… he wasn’t entirely sure what she was doing as she popped one of the panels from the building and began pulling wire and nonsense from the wall. He returned to watching the area, making sure that nothing had heard her as she worked and keeping a steady sweep of the area. When his sweep passed back over where she had been, she was gone-- nothing but an open wall panel to show that she’d been there a few minutes prior.

“Williams,” the commander’s voice sounded from just over his shoulder nearly giving him a heart attack, “You trained?”

Kaidan didn’t have time to wonder what ‘trained’ she was when Williams answered, “Yes sir. All firearms.”

“Take over for Alenko.”

Kaidan passed the rifle and relinquished his position with a modicum of growing curiosity. He didn’t dare ask though as he knelt beside the Commander. There was an assortment of little items pilfered from the building and possibly one of the nearby broken shuttles but he wasn’t sure. What he was almost sure of was what he thought she planned to do with it.

She handed him some wire. “Strip.”

Yep. She definitely planned what he thought she planned and he stripped the wires obediently. Most tech trained knew the theory recipe that supposedly helped the Commander take out an entire base of Batarians but no one had been crazy or desperate enough to try and replicate it on the field as far as he knew. Too unstable. The slightest error could mean losing a hand or more to one of the meanest things to emerge from Torfan besides the Commander.

When they were done there were six deadly little wire wrapped balls of death sitting on the ground that Kaidan was more than a little hesitant to try and take. To his surprise, the commander didn’t actually touch them as she lifted them biotically into the air and said, “Alenko, cover shield.”

And with that, she volleyed them off with a swing of her hand and drew a sword that unfolded and clicked out like magnetic lego pieces just as the first ball hit the ground. He almost didn’t get the shield up before the first round of shrapnel hit. Shards of improv thermite bit against the blue of his biotic wall as one after another the bombs exploded and took with them most of the waiting spikes and bodies. A few of the surviving machines began to unfold from where they had apparently been hidden, and as he shook away the slight ring to his ears he watched as the Commander made the gesture with her hand to advance.

Williams was first to vault the hiding place, collapsing the rifle and tossing it over to the commander with shared nods as she switched to the spare Kaidan had tossed her earlier. Just as quickly, the Commander was off in a biotic charge that zig-zagged down the field. Only once did Kaidan make the mistake of tossing a machine that she’d been charging for. She slid beneath it with a biotic flair before looking up and then that deadly expression was turned on him before she flicked her sword in annoyance and charged away.

Almost just as soon as it had started, it was over. The blue-green grass lay in clumps as little impact craters marked where each little bomb had hit and the synthetic bodies littered everything. The commander was squatting near the crates where they’d suspected to find Nihlus, her face solemn. Kaidan could see why as he made his way over.

It was definitely Nihlus.

Several wounds. Shepard already had a scan going and Kaidan glanced at the info showing up on the link. Abdomen shot. Shoulder. Arm. Two to the head. Hard to say which had really killed him but the Spector was definitely not one of the living anymore. With care not to disturb the body beyond necessary, Shepard leaned forward to tug the turian ident card from his armour. As she popped it into a holding cell on her omnitool, her voice was whisper soft, barely heard over the sound of the wind and still crackling nearby fires, “Wise spirits, carry this soul home.”

With a circular motion of her hand, the commander motioned for them to regroup in the safety of a nearby doorway as she said, “Wounds were not from machines. Possible other hostiles. Need to take the tram down to port and try to find that beacon--” she passed over her rifle-- “Williams, eyes to the sky. Alenko, I want a shield as we travel. Can you maintain one that long?”

He nodded.

Shepard nodded back before jerking her chin towards where Nihlus was crumpled. “Mark for pickup.”

As Shepard scouted ahead and Kaidan went to mark the body’s location, Williams hugged his flank as she scanned the rooftops through the rifle and asked, “You work together long?”

Once he finished marking the location on their omni-map, he shook his head. He was still very aware that Shepard could hear through the linked comms-- that is if she wasn’t simply cloaked nearby-- and said, “No. Today's a first. Just a few training rounds in the ship hold before this. Probably best to stay on mission though.”

“Ah… right. Sorry skipper.”

There was an ungodly squeal of metal on metal from somewhere below and Kaidan flared brightly with his biotics as he sprinted for the rail. As he got there he could see as down below the commander levelled a biotic kick to another crate and it slid with another screech onto the tram platform that would take them down to the docks.  She leapt up on top of the crates and gestured for Kaidan and Williams to come down without actually looking up to verify that they were watching.

Once they were on the open tram he could see why she’d done it. The crates didn’t offer a lot of cover but there was just enough that if his shield failed for some reason then they wouldn’t be sitting targets. The tram shuffled off, the artificial gravity kicking on quickly enough that he didn’t even have to adjust his balance as he held a shield over them. Shepard knelt like a dog straining at the edge of a leash near the front of the tram, her sword still in one hand while her other held an open omnitool out towards the port with some sort of scan.

If he was honest, he felt similarly. There was something of an anticipation that lingered in the air and made him feel antsy. As they neared their goal, Shepard asked, “Alenko, how's your energy level?”

“Doing fine, sir.” He answered even though he could feel the strain of holding the shield for so long on top of that day’s migraine.

The tram started to slow and he shifted to compensate as the Commander said, “drop shield and ready to roll in 3…2--” The tram slammed to an early stop, nearly tossing them and Shepard grunted as she rolled off and onto the walkway. “ _Randi ka bachha_!”

Unlike the others, the translator didn't seem to have that one saved in her recent phrases. With no network connection, he could only guess from the tone that it was a rather potent sounding cuss as he scrambled to catch up only to find that she’d frozen with her gaze on an alarmingly large bomb.

“Commander,” Williams said, squinting through the scope of the rifle and still on the tram. “I see two more on the upper levels. Might be others. Wait… third one on the far side. Counting six visible unfriendlies on the pathway.”

“Alenko, shield.” Shepard commanded as she set her sword down and jerked out a freshly fabricated expansion bar from her omnitool. It clipped down onto the bomb and expanded in a series of holographic squares outwards to give her a larger screen to work with. Her hands moved in a desperate sweep and he could feel a bead of sweat begin to roll down his back as he raised another shield to keep them protected… well, protected-ish. There wasn’t a lot of protection if the bomb went off. He’d seen the result from that though. Like a flashbang under a cup. There would be a perfect scorch edge where his barrier had stopped the blast but nothing left of _them_.

When the bomb gave a chirp he didn’t know whether he should start praying or cheering till the commander picked up her sword with a huff and nodded at him. He hoped that was the sign to drop his barrier because he wasn’t even sure if he could hold it for much longer. It shimmered away and he had to remind himself not to lean forward and brace on his knees as he took deep even breaths.

To his surprise, Shepard popped another expansion off her omnitool and held both out like there were glowing candybars. “Get to the other bombs. Program will run automatically. I will clear a path and look for others.”

As if on queue, a smattering of shots peppered nearby and Shepard jerked her head towards the ramp when Kaidan lingered behind to try and hold a shield. “Go,” her only command.

Williams took the rear, walking backwards she used the rifle to pick off a few visible targets and then giving a low whistle. He glanced over his shoulder to see why-- just in time to see Shepard run up a steep wall and a blast of blue as her biotics pounded the shooters into little more than scrap metal and regret.

They split after that. Williams taking the closer one after he nodded towards it and he ran to the next that he could see. He’d never gotten to see first-hand an N7 program in action but he had to admit to a little envy as he clipped the expansion bar and set the program to work as he kept an eye on the surroundings.

Just after his own bomb gave a chirp to let him know it was disabled he heard a sound over the comms.

“HNNK.”

It was a similar muffled grunt that he’d heard people make when being punched and he jerked upwards just as Williams jogged to his side. “Was that…?”

She didn't finish the question but Alenko was pretty sure he knew anyhow. _Was that the Commander_?

He wasn’t sure.  

Down near the end where the largest port would be, Alenko spotted a flair of biotics as a group of machines were tossed into the sky and away. The lone figure of the commander visibly stumbled over to lean awkwardly over the other bomb Williams had pointed out.

Kaidan was breathing hard-- his already straining body feeling rather brutally pushed-- as he and Williams ran the final leg to the commander. As they got there he saw her lean to the side and spit. The cheery blue of a stim packet hit the floor as she limped towards them, past, and over to where she had dropped her sword. He’d only heard of N7 soldiers occasionally taking stims like that instead of using a slow release injection port but he’d thought it was a myth. A really, _really_ unhealthy myth.

“Sir, your shoulder,” Williams said while sharing a nervous glance with Kaidan.

He could see it once she pushed past on her way back past since her shoulder now faced him. Part of her armour had been blasted back but he could already see a glossy patch of fresh and rather thick medigel. It must be deep if her suit had pumped out so much.   Shepard gave a nod, jerking her chin towards the nearby dock. “Alenko, secure the area near the beacon. Williams, spot anymore?”

Williams shook her head. “No m--sir. Made a sweep. These four were all I found.”

“Hn,” the Commander grunted as she flicked her sword to collapse it. “Maintain perimeter. Alenko, once we are done I want you to double check to make sure we did not miss any and then radio for pick-up.”

Kaidan nodded as he chanced a glance at his omnitool and the link to her medical readings.  He didn’t get time to contemplate it though as a hair raising scream echoed from near the beacon and he realized that it was another sea of synthetic zombies. Could this day get any worse?


	2. Investigation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _investigation: (noun) the action of investigating something or someone; formal or systematic examination or research._

 

~*☾*~

 

Pashera Shepard could tell that she was only halfway conscious or perhaps even fully conscious but unable to do anything more than be swept away in the twisting tide of pain and visions. It was like a nightmare she couldn’t wake up from as the beacon peeled open her mind and nested there. It consumed her. There was no smell beyond one that told her-- blood. It wasn’t human blood but the word was associated with the smell. Like a warped recording, it kept trying to relay a message that was no longer understandable.

War. War and Blood. Pain. If she could scream for it to stop she would have, but she was stuck in its thrall as hazy flashes of almost-images seared through her and lingered under her skin. _War_. _Blood_. _Pain_. _Death_. _They are coming._

 _Make it stop_.

It repeated. Over and over it clawed at her mind trying to impart some sort of wisdom but it felt more like she was being shaken in the jaws of a varren like some toy it intended to rip apart.

 _Make it stop_.

Stop them.

She wasn’t sure if the begging was hers or the vision’s. Though she did agree-- she just wanted it to stop. When it finally did begin to fade and she regained control of her body, she was no longer on the dock next to the beacon that she’d pulled Chief Williams away from. She could hear voices nearby but they hazed and rumbled in and out of focus. How long she lay, staring at the back of her eyelids and trying to claw her way back to the living she wasn’t sure, but eventually, the conversation started anew as another person joined and it all filtered into words that she could once more understand.

“Karen, has there been any change? We’re due to arrive at the citadel soon.”

“None, David. Stop asking. Like I said, her heart rate has returned to normal and at best I believe she’s simply asleep now. Besides her shoulder, obvious bruising, and the pulled muscles in her thigh-- I can’t find anything wrong. ”

“I’ll notify the Huerta--”

“Nuh,” Pashera forced the words out of a throat that felt raw and a tongue that felt swollen and dry, “ ‘s not necessary.”

She could feel Anderson’s hand as he took it the same way he had back in that Mindior hospital tent so many years ago. “Pash,” his voice a low whisper-- there must be someone else in the room aside from Karen if he was trying to whisper-- and he gave her hand a small squeeze, “you okay kiddo?”

Pashera took a deep breath, ready to soldier on but it shook regardless. _Was she okay_? She wasn’t really sure yet but she gave his hand a little return squeeze before she croaked, “help me up.”

His hands were the same rock-steady that they’d been when he unofficially adopted her all those years ago. Duty prevented him sitting beside her the way he had when she was little and dealing with the old nightmares but at least he didn’t let go of her hand.

“How long--” she had to stop, her throat dry and struggling to work as she tried to remember how to open her eyes.

Anderson knew what she was asking anyhow as he answered, “Nearly fifteen hours. We’re almost back to the citadel. Hard burn.”

“Bodies?”

“We collected Jenkins and Nihlus. No others were lost. I ordered Gunnery Chief Williams aboard for debriefing.”

She finally forced her eyes open. Things were hazy. Blurry. Her free hand came up to her eye even though it made her injured shoulder complain. “Where’s my--”

“Uh, here, Commander,” Alenko interrupted, stepping forward. “It, uh, broke when the beacon exploded. I repaired it best I could but…”

He offered out the eyepiece that most people confused for a sniper’s visor. She examined it before passing it off to Chakwas. “I will need a new one.”

“I’ll pick one up once we’re at the Citadel but you’ll need to go without for a while,” Chakwas said with a nod as she examined it. “You’ll also need to repair your omni. It overloaded with whatever that beacon did. No nerve damage in the scans but you’re going to have some soreness for a few days.”

Pashera glanced down at the hand that Anderson held. Scattered bruising and the hexagon burn of an implant overload dotted the skin and she gave a silent nod as Anderson said, “I’ll need to speak with Shepard in private.”

After Chakwas and Alenko had filtered out, Anderson gave her a gentle hug-- careful of her shoulder which had been patched by Chakwas. “Are you sure you’re okay, kiddo?”

“I’m fine, pops,” Pashera said looking away. “Little headache. I’ve had worse.”

He snorted, backing up a pace to look at her. “You look like hell.”

“I… feel like hell,” she admitted with a grimace.

“I’ve gotten reports from the others. Think you’re up to giving a verbal one right now?”

Shepard nodded, rubbing at her forehead and the crescent scar there from her early career drunken brawl with a krogan. After he started up the voice dictation program on his omnitool she gave a quick recount of the mission, pausing only a few times when he would ask questions. When they finished, he nodded and closed his omni with a sigh. “I’ll forward this to the Alliance but…”

That didn’t sound good. She glanced up at him but knew she didn’t have to ask to get him to answer.

He turned away, the muscle in his jaw flexing as he clasped his hands behind his back. “I’m not gonna lie,  kiddo. This looks bad. Nihlus dead. Beacon destroyed. Unknown machines invading. We may be in for a real shitstorm.”

She scowled at the floor. It was true. This was a complete shitfest. She returned to rubbing her forehead, tracing the scar there as she thought. Something about Nihlus’ death didn’t sit right with her. Those shots hadn’t been by the machines. The wounds were… well her gun made roughly similar marks. Spirits… what if someone was setting humans up? Or worse? She didn’t know what could be worse yet but she was sure there was something unpleasant that would rise up from all of this mess.

Bracing herself on Anderson’s shoulder, she dragged herself to her feet before patting his arm in thanks. “ETA?”

He glanced at his omnitool. “Thirty minutes. You want to use the shower in my quarters?”

“Yeah. Need a rinse. Smell like swamp.”

He chuckled. “I know. I put your armour in the cleanpod. Your duffle is next to the bed. Need anything?”

She paused in her slow shuffle to the door and gripped the wall, still feeling rather unsteady. “No. I’ll grab something to eat later.”

Coming to stand beside her, he gave a nod. “Queasy?”

“Yeah. Smelled like…”

He nodded again and finished for her with a grim expression, “Mindior.”

When the door opened he gave her a final nod and strode away as Chakwas held something out from where she leaned against the door. Pashera raised a brow, earning a grin from the typically cheery doctor as Chakwas explained, “Sling. You are to wear it for the next forty-eight hours and I am not going to hear any complaints.”

Pashera accepted it with a small quirk to her lips. “Safe for me to shower first, Ma’am?”

“Don’t ma’am me, Pash. And yes. Now get. I’ve got reports to finish and a requisition for a new corrective visor to finish,” Chakwas said with a wave of her hand and a good-natured smile as she headed back into the medbay.

Pashera was halfway across the mess and only a few more weary steps shy of the Captain’s cabin when she was accosted again. Williams trotted over, her hands nervously twisting at an already rather abused looking nutrition wrapper that the chief hid behind her back as she spoke. “Good to see you up, Commander.”

Nodding, Pashera tried to very covertly lean on the wall. By William’s expression, it was probably not as covert as she’d hoped.

“I… I should probably let you go. Thank you, though, Commander. For pushing me out of the way. You didn’t need to do that,” Williams said, taking a step back.

Pashera gave her a solemn nod before speaking. “Interested in an official transfer?”

“I--” genuine surprise flitted over Williams’ face as she seemed to register what Pashera had asked. “Sorry sir, did you just ask--”

“Crew. Normandy. Transfer.” Pashera said as she tried to hide her amusement. “You performed well. Followed directions.” Without waiting for an answer, Pashera pushed from the wall and called over her shoulder, “Think about it. You have time.”

With that she was able to escape, the door closing behind her and she was left in blessed silence. The shower was quick. Just enough time to rinse and get acquainted with her new bruises before she was dressed in uniform and sitting in the hold, staring at the two alliance standard cryo-caskets nearby. As she thought, her hands toyed with the old star map replica that her mother had used during funerals. Something still didn’t sit right with her. Something seemed… off. Like she was missing something and only had a few scattered pieces of a puzzle. Both her birth-fathers had loved to do puzzles with her and her siblings. Edges first. Build inwards. She just had to find the edges…

Sighing, she set aside the cloth and pulled out the turian ident chip from where she’d stored it on her now flickering omnitool. Most likely Nihlus died during that last transmission where he’d started to say her name. Had he been calling for backup? He hadn’t sounded panicked as far as she knew though it had only been the first couple syllables. If she could use her rather limited encounters with the turian Spectre over the past week as a baseline, well, he hadn’t sounded any more agitated than usual. Then again… he’d been about as hard to read as she was rumoured to be. Cards close to the heart or whatever that phrase was. That, or she was just bad at reading people.

She knew she should put the ident chip with the casket but instead she continued to toy with it. Protocol was to take the chip in case something happened and they couldn’t recover the body. Pursing her lips, she looked over the chip. Doubtful it could tell her anything useful. Most these chips usually contained was some personal identification. Name, birthdate, home-planet. Seemed a shame to have only known him as a Spectre though...

Opening her omnitool, she popped the chip into the read-slot on her wrist. Nihlus Kryik. There was no home planet listed but he was older than she’d thought him to be. Not by much of course but-- the information wavered and this time it was unlike the threatening-to-die flickers her omnitool had given previously. The limited personal information clipped away to what looked like a hidden bodycam. She caught a glimpse of a pale turian before Nihlus turned away as he spoke, “Saren? Did the council send you as backup?”

“Something like that,” was the silky reply before the camera shuddered and a gunshot cracked from nearby.

The recording jerked and Nihlus must have dodged behind the crate that became his final resting place because all she saw was a view of turian blood where it had splattered and a knee as he spoke, “Shepar--” His voice flangled with another gunshot before the video cut. By the location of the view, she would guess that one of the chest shots had cut the feed. There was no real proof that the other turian had been the shooter. It wasn’t enough, but maybe it was the edge piece she needed. Gripping the ident card in the hand that was held mostly immobile by the sling, she struggled her way to her feet and headed for Anderson.

Fifteen minutes later she was dressed in official blues and standing in the airlock with Alenko and Williams. Anderson had recognized the turian as another Spectre, Saren Arterius, who was well known for his dislike of humans. While they waited for the Council to review the ‘evidence’ that Anderson now submitted in the thoughts that Saren had been behind this attack, they were to attend a meeting with Ambassador Udina who was the most charming bag of shit that Pashera had ever had the pleasure of restraining herself from kicking into the nearest trash chute.

“Crew morale?” She asked, glancing at Alenko who stood rock steady nearby.

He answered with only a small return glance in her direction, “Loosing Jenkins was hard Commander but I think I can speak for everyone that we’re glad we didn’t lose you too. ...Hell of a shakedown cruise.”

“Indeed,” she said thankful that the hatch was finally opening as it gave a final hiss and slid open.

She found it doubtful the crew was actually glad she’d returned. Since being transferred just over a week ago to serve as Anderson’s XO it was hard, nay- _impossible_ , not to see the tense shoulders when she approached and hear the relieved sighs when she left. Still, she wasn’t there to be friendly. Anderson had, after all, requested her because of her skill and not for the more personal reason of having family aboard. Then again… perhaps Anderson hadn’t requested her. Nihlus himself had mentioned that he’d submitted her Spectre candidacy. Perhaps her being on the ship had been his string pulling instead.

Most of the walk was quiet. The Presidium only seemed to have the occasional sparse wanderer or person relaxing thanks to their arriving at what might have been considered the night cycle. She could never tell though because the artificial sky never changed from the Thessia daylight blue that it was programmed for.

When they entered the human embassy, Udina was already speaking to the projection panels where the council members stood. From where Pashera stood she could see how his back tensed and the vein in his neck pulsed. He turned to them with an expression that was only mildly contained contempt as he snarled, “You’re late.”

Pashera glanced at her omnitool. If it could be trusted in its current state, they were five minutes early and it would have been difficult to get there sooner as the ship had only really _just_ been cleared for docking and pulled in to port. She wasn’t one to argue though even if she could hear both Alenko and Williams give their own angry mutters as she stepped forward.

“Commander Shepard reporting as ordered, Sir.” _Jackass_. She kept the last word firmly clenched between her teeth as she gave him a brisk nod.

He gestured dismissively towards the council holograms. “It seems they have some questions.”

The asari councillor held up her hand. “If the commander would wait in the hall, we would speak with the ones who were under her command.”

Pashera gave a stiff partial bow before walking from the room. There was a bench in the hall along with potted plants she didn’t recognize from worlds she’d probably only read about. Compared to the horrors of only a few hours ago it all seemed too… mundane. Or perhaps the word she was looking for was calm. Perhaps even clean. It just seemed so far away when if she closed her eyes she could still smell the bodies. Echoes of the screams still seemed to linger in her ears.

Death. War. Blood. Pain.

She breathed out slowly and resisted the urge to rub at her forehead the way she did when she was stressed. Whatever the beacon did, it still lurked just beneath the surface like a poison. It was not ideal, but a part of her was wondering if she should let Karin take her to get properly checked at the Citadel hospital. Then again she’d rather chew off her injured arm before doing that...

It was a while before Alenko came and sat down beside her looking as worn as she felt. He rubbed at his temples as he sighed and Pashera watched out of the corner of her eye as she asked, “Migraine?”

He gave an absent nod as he dropped his hands away and leaned back, “The Ambassador sure likes the sound of his own voice.”

Pashera hummed her agreement. The few occasions she’d had to deal with him had been… unpleasant. Unlike other ambassadors, she had never heard him simper or even simply ask nice. No, he seemed to think that raising the volume and getting belligerent was the way to appeal to someone. Shout until they relented and gave you what you wanted just so you’d leave them alone. Perhaps it was a culture thing but she wasn’t sure she agreed with the method or the headache it inspired.

 _How much vinegar must that man consume to be so vile all the time?_ She shook away the thought as she asked, “They need me yet?”

Alenko shook his head. “They were still grilling Williams when I was allowed to go. Felt bad leaving her but I wasn’t sure my head could take much more.”

Pashera patted at her pockets for a moment before finding what she was looking for and she offered out the small sealed packet. It was standard alliance pain medicine but would probably take the edge off till he could get to Chakwas. He waved it off. “Took some. ...your implant ever cause migraines, Commander?”

She nodded. Still staring at the doors as her gut twisted. There was a lingering bad feeling about this whole thing. It seemed more than just a Spectre dying or a beacon getting destroyed. She could see why the council would be upset over that, of course, but removing her from the room to debrief her squad seemed… irregular. Then again she had never actually directly interacted with the council before so perhaps this _was_ normal and she was just being paranoid.

Eventually, Williams came out. Udina’s angry shouting followed her until the door slid closed once more and Williams began to pace like the interview had put a wild varren up her ass. When Williams finally sat down-- though it was more of an angry bodyslam into the last free section of the bench beside Alenko-- she growled, “This is absolute bullshit.”

Alenko tilted his head towards her. “Hm?”

“Why would they ask if we ever lost sight of Shepard? I just--” she cut off with an angry mutter and crossed her arms. “It just doesn’t feel right skipper.”

Alenko rubbed the back of his neck, sighing. “Yeah. Seemed a little odd but there was a death of a Spectre. I guess I could understand them being thorough.”

“Don’t you find it strange that they got the reports we sent in-- they even referenced them-- so why the need for a one-on-one? And why aren’t they talking to Shepard? … god, I hate politics.”

Pashera had to wonder the same thing as she sat like a stiff statue on a bench that was quickly becoming uncomfortable with her already achy body. She absently tapped the pain medication packet on her thigh as she waited for Udina to call her in and hopefully she’d get some explanation. Instead, they were passed by Anderson who gave them the barest glance as he disappeared into the room.

As time passed, her irritated tapping eventually matched Williams’ angry foot bouncing. At her side, Alenko’s slight snores only added to the jangle of her nerves as she waited. And waited. At three and slowly edging towards four hours of waiting-- at least according to her omnitool if it could still be trusted-- Pashera felt like she either wanted to crawl out of her skin or nod off as Alenko had. She’d had boring waits before but this was stretching her patience thin. More-so after just coming off a mission and she definitely didn’t count her fifteen hours unconscious as any sort of restful.

Yet that nervous feeling only grew when several Citadel security officers came to stand nearby while one entered the room. She tucked the medicine packet into her pocket as she watched how they posted themselves near each nearby exit point. That twist in her gut quickly turned into a drop as the door opened long enough for Udina to flick a hand in her direction before he turned away. Anderson looked like he was about to chew glass and spit nails-- or whatever that phrase was-- and the turian officer beside him looked grim.

“Shepard,” Anderson said with a nod. “I’m afraid the news isn’t good.”

She stood. The movement was slow thanks to her body having stiffened from sitting for so long. She didn’t stretch though. Not after noticing how the nearby officers tensed when she moved. “I see.”

Anderson’s gaze flicked to look at the officer as he ground out through clenched teeth, “Commander, you are temporarily relieved of duty while you are under investigation.”

She nodded.

The officer stepped forward. “Do you have any weapons on your person, ma’am?”

Wordlessly she held the hand with her omnitool towards Anderson. He was one of the few people that knew about the compact pistol attachment she kept. He’d actually been the one to get her it before she’d gone in for a special Alliance operative reaction training course. He detached it and held it up. “I’ll include it in the weapons sent for evidence examination.”

The officer nodded. “Any others?”

Pashera shook her head. She had kept her sword holsters empty because she had assumed she wouldn't need them. Add on that they would have been uncomfortable under her sling.

“Right…” the cop said and she watched as his gaze drifted over her injured arm before he continued, “we’ll forgo cuffs if you’re willing to come quietly.”

One more nod.

When the officer turned around she met Anderson’s gaze as she signed with one hand, *what happened?*

*It’s complicated. The evidence got turned against you.* he signed back before the officer motioned for Pashera to follow.

She turned away, knowing that today was likely going to be a very, very, very long day.

The holding room they put her in was fairly sparse. Very turian. That wasn’t a surprise though since C-Sec was dominantly turian with only a few asari and salarian mixed in. Aside from the few newly welcomed humans, there was one volus who was doing datawork and ‘processing’ that she was made to sit in front of for an uncomfortable stretch of time. It wasn’t that she hated Volus but the sound they made as they breathed was one of the few things that she had a phobia of due to it reminding her of the breathing mask she’d woken up in on Mindior just after the death of her family.

Once a disabling device had been attached to her omnitool and she was left alone in the room, she leaned back against the far wall. Her hips protested the bench earlier and though she ached, it was still preferable to stand. She could feel the slight warmth that radiated from one of the heating pipes through her section of the wall as she stared at the ceiling. Most stations and ships had sections like that. One of her fathers had taken her through the old ship once and helped her find the spots. They were places to avoid if there was a breach or even sleep on if you were having life support trouble and no other heat source. It would take hours for the pipes to freeze and it could save your life so long as you had oxygen.

They’d sold the ship a year before the twins were born but when they were four she’d played with them and taught them how to do something similar with the piping in the house. They hadn’t been old enough to understand but it had been fun. A game.

Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath in. She’d undergone an inquiry before with Torfan. Though, that had largely been handled while she was in the hospital recovering. Losing most of the squad and going AWOL to slaughter an entire base… it wasn't the real story but it was the one on the reports. One for the team as they say. She'd willingly taken the mantle of rambo-rage murderer in order to protect the others then. It was politics. It tanked her career for the most part and meant she was used as something of a scare tactic once she finished her N7 training. This had been her first real assignment in years and it was just her luck that she was to be tossed under the proverbial automobile. Or was the phrase tossed to the canines? Didn't really matter.  She knew that Anderson would definitely fight this lie but he hadn’t been down planetside. With enough questions and time, someone could even convince the two of her squad that there was questionable doubt. Depending on how the evidence had been turned against her… well… things looked bad. Of course, the weapon used to kill Nihlus hadn’t been one of her’s but with Spectres she had no doubt something could be planted. If there was one thing she’d discovered was that the alien races were no more above corruption than humans.

Taking another deep slow breath, she tucked her hand into her pocket where the medicine packet was. Idiots hadn’t put a dampener on her implant and hadn’t made her empty her pockets. Possible it wasn’t regulation or their arresting her was a formality at this point but biotics and a small object could easily be combined to be a weapon. Perhaps they’d just never arrested an N7 before? Probably a good thing that she couldn’t handle precise things with her biotics though she knew enough about the theory.

She sighed.

The next breath came with a flicker of the beacon's vision. It still simmered behind her lids. Like someone screaming into a pillow as they were smothered. It left a hopeless desperate feeling in her chest. Phantom smells of blood. A nervous energy like if she looked up then she’d realize that there was something coming for her. Hunters.

She could hear the door open even behind the sounds the beacon put in her head.

Cracking open her eye, she saw that there was indeed someone standing in the room with her. They stood at the door, reading over a datapad and looking harried and distracted. She looked over him with her good eye as she waited. Young-ish, turian, freshly re-painted markings, eye visor, armour polished. He smelled faintly like the gun range though and was in fairly good shape for a turian on the citadel. Probably bored out of his skull chasing the petty and the reckless here at the station.

 

▄▄︻̷̿┻̿═━一 ~

 

Since the suspect had seemed lost in thought with their eyes closed and human face pointed towards the ceiling, Garrus paused in the door as he looked over the file one more time. He’d been over the video evidence, listened to the clips of recorded questioning of the witnesses that his superiors had handed down, he’d even glanced at the psych profile forwarded from the human ambassador-- it still seemed like someone was pressing hard for this to go through. Too hard.

His mandibles clamped tightly down as he read. Her military history was close to flawless in his opinion, though it did look like she tended to take matters into her own hands to get things done. The type of soldier his father hated and he secretly admired. Perfect Spectre material if the council themselves weren’t pressing for an investigation. There was one blip-- a Report Of Investigation mark six years prior that was checked as Unfounded. If he remembered his courses on Alliance regulations correctly then she’d been investigated for something before but they’d either come away with nothing or decided she wasn’t at fault. Could mean she was good at covering her tracks… or it could just mean she’d had a run of bad luck. Depending on what he'd heard about her in the press though, he was more inclined to guess 'bad luck' spun to political favour. Perhaps that was just his cynicism speaking though.

Holding back a sigh, he lowered the datapad. From across the room she stared at him. Most humans tended to have overly animated faces-- you could read them like a book if you watched for the simple little tells. This one… not so much. She was almost turian in her stoic-ness. Garrus couldn’t tell if she was just playing at being hard to read or if she was doing the best imitation of his father since… well... his father. He found it intriguing that the heart rate he picked up was resting-body calm -- no nervousness.

Garrus waved his omnitool over the wall to activate the table before he gestured at the freshly risen bench. “Have a seat.”

She didn’t move. Didn’t blink. The only sign that she wasn’t some creepy statue or propped up corpse made to scare the spirits out of him --again-- was that she registered on his visor, was breathing, and had moved previously.

“Right…” he muttered as he sat and folded his hands. He could do this. His father had been harder to deal with and if this human female thought she was going to intimidate him… well, he could just read over the rest of her file while he waited for her to comply.

Twenty minutes later, he’d read the file twice and she still hadn’t moved. “Comman--”

“Not currently.”

His mouth closed with an uncomfortable clack as he looked at her. “Sorry?”

“While under alien investigation I am stripped of current rank and relieved of duty. Alliance regulations state that I am, for the moment, simply Shepard. Not considered a civilian but also no longer ranked as treaty code number four-thirty-seven requires.”

“Right then. Shepard. I’ve got some questions--” he paused glancing at her to see if she’d moved or intended to interrupt. When she didn’t, he continued, “starting with your recounting of the mission.”

She shifted, switching which leg her weight was on and there was the slightest raise to hear heartrate but he suspected that was simply from moving. “I gave my report.”

He raised the datapad. “Yes. You did. Is it accurate?”

Still not moving from her claimed section of wall, she held out her hand. Interesting-- Instead of trusting that it was the same report she’d sent, she was willing to re-read it. Meant she likely suspected something strange as well which fit the feeling he’d had when he’d been pulled to specifically work this case. Or it meant she wanted to correct any damning mistakes she’d made in it.

Either one.

Instead of getting up to give it to her, Garrus set it on the table and looked at her expectantly. He watched with mild interest as she closed her eyes and took a deep breath that hitched ever so slightly before she let it back out just as slowly. The heart rate spike was one he typically recognized as pain. When she did finally push off the wall, she did so stiffly and with about as much grace as an angry elcor dignitary-- which is to say, none at all.

By the time she actually made it to the table, he regretted making her move. If the report was to be believed she was still fresh off the mission that had covered her brown human skin in discolouring bruises and put her arm in a sling. Not even a full day cycle had passed since she was supposedly knocked unconscious. Once sitting, she picked up a datapad and he was able to see another prominent injury. Her hand had the fresh net pattern of omnitool overload and two of her five thin fingers actually seemed to struggle with bending as she gripped the pad.

She also read with her head tilted to the side and one eye closed. Strange way to do it but he’d seen humans do odder things as they read. Like squint, stick their tongue out, and even chew limbs absently. He folded his hands as he waited and watched her. There were no micro-expressions to que him into what she was thinking as she read but he thought that more interesting than a myriad of expressions might have been. Her heartbeat didn't range into an anxious territory. She seemed completely and strangely at ease. Eventually, she handed the datapad back. “Accurate.”

He nodded and set it aside. “So. Shepard,” he paused watching her, “did you kill Spectre Nihlus?”

That seemed to confirm something for her as she shifted in her seat to cross a leg and lean into the wall that the table had expanded from. Either she was a very good liar or she was telling the truth because her face and heart rate revealed nothing as she said, “No.”

“Do you know who did?”

“Possibly. Lack evidence.”

He waited for her to supply her suspect but when she offered nothing forth he prompted, “and who do you suspect?”

“Spectre Saren. I submitted what I found. He was the only person visibly present at the T-O-D.”

Garrus entered the access code into the datapad and turned the now playing video evidence towards her. “This?”

Shepard gave a curt nod.

“And how did you come across this so-called evidence?”

Perhaps he’d phrased it wrong because she stayed quiet. Her eyes drifted closed again and she took another stuttery breath. She didn’t open her eyes afterwards though. _Spirits, when was the last time she slept_? Her report mentioned being knocked unconscious but he knew from experience that waking up from that was like waking up straight after the blast. Whether it was a few minutes or several hours-- you still felt like you needed to nap for a week after a mission like that. Not that he’d really had a lot of those in C-Sec but…

Then there was the matter that she’d been waiting for hours. Rest or food likely hadn’t been an option. He leaned back, scratching absently at the spot beneath his chin as he asked, “you eat recently?”

That caused a little flutter in her face. A smile? Couldn’t have been. Her expression was flat when her eyes cracked open and that icy gaze was levelled at him once more. “No, but that is fine. As for how I came across the ‘so-called’ evidence, it is standard procedure with turians to take the ident chip in case the body is unrecoverable.”

True. It was, but… “Yet you recovered the body,” he prompted.

There. He saw the twitch again at the corner of her mouth. It stuttered upwards for a moment and the corner of her eyes crinkled. It was gone just as quick though as she said, “I was snooping. Tell me, detective who has yet to introduce himself, if you fail to save someone and you only know one thing about them but are offered the chance to possibly know more… do you take it?”

“Garrus.” Her brow noticeably rose and she glanced at her omnitool. He realized why-- she likely thought it a translator glitch. Mandibles flaring with both smile and apology he said again, “Investigator Garrus Vakarian. Sorry. And to answer your question--” he spread his hands helplessly-- “I don’t know. I’ve never been in that position.”

“Well, Garrus,” she said with a slight acknowledging dip of her head, “I have. Many times. This time I caved.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not entirely sure why I'm nervous but people are either gonna love what I've done or hate it. ... I'm kinda hoping for the former.


	3. Charlie Foxtrot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Charlie Foxtrot: Military slang, phonetic abbreviation for “cluster fucked”, metaphorically describing an incoherent entanglement of a certain situation or formation._

 

~**W**~

Wrex grumbled as he was led into the little holding room. So far nothing about his day had gone according to plan. Buildings blowing up. Old mercenary ‘friends’ trying to keep him from his target. C-Sec.  If Wrex had been a few hundred years younger then he might have lost his temper. As it was, he settled with being annoyed.

Someone else was in the room as the officer closed the door. At first, he thought it was an investigator waiting for him but they didn’t move from the corner that they lingered in after the first glance his way. Then he looked them over again. Human. Soldier. Handsom scars were mixed with fresh injuries and by the smell, the new wounds weren't more than a day old. If he had to guess, he'd say it was probably from a bar fight and they'd been shoved in here till they were sober enough for a superior to pick them up. Yet... he couldn’t smell any alcohol on them. 

Deciding that they were of no real interest or threat, Wrex sat heavy on the far bench. He hated citadel jobs. Messy. Complicated. Worse when it was a hired hit and people hadn’t been paid to look the other way. Yet this was a rush hire so he knew there was going to be some complications. It’s why they’d hired _him_ after all.

Since he’d already been paid half-- and there were no other mercs nearby, skilled, or stupid enough to take on the job-- Wrex knew that he wouldn’t have to wait too long for the Broker to work his magic. Anonymous paid bail, misfiled data, or paid off cop-- Wrex would be out and back to stalking that ancestors be damned pyjak soon enough. Little bastard couldn’t run forever. Not after pissing in the Broker’s Blast-O’s.

The door hissed open and a dull brown coloured turian officer stepped in. He reeked with fear and nervousness but his vocals were surprisingly calm. “Wrex, Shepard, you’ve both been cleared to leave. However, Shepard, I suggest staying on the citadel until the council has made a ruling.”

Wrex stood, not quite towering over the turian but he might as well have with the way the fear-stink increased. “My guns.”

“Fraid you aren’t cleared--”

“I’m pretty sure I know who hired you so you’ll give my guns back or you’ll find me a replacement. Now.”

“I-- yes. I’ll… put them in a cab that will be waiting outside for you.”

Wrex nodded as the one called Shepard came to stand beside him. “Where is inspector Vakarian?”

Their voice was asari soft like the rest of their human skin but she seemed to scare the turian worse than Wrex did as the turian took a step back. “He’s out for the moment, Ma’am.”

Shepard’s eyes flicked over the turian before she held up her hand to display the disabler clasped there. “Will this remain?”

The turian fumbled with something on his thigh pouch before pulling out the key to the omnitool disablers. Once the disablers were removed from both Wrex and Shepard, the turian fled. Hopefully it was to get his guns or Wrex might have to add another target to his list. Unsurprisingly, as soon as the disabler was off Wrex got a notification for a message.

===***===  
\- **COMPOSE SECURE CHANNEL**  
_Secure channel activated…_  
-Opening Message-  
Direct message to URDNOT WREX  - communication code 01A7645C-A  
=*=

**Contract still active. Additional requirements in exchange for bail-- Assist Shepard.**

  
===***===

With narrow eyes, Wrex glanced up at the figure who was making their way out of C-Sec. If this entire day had been some ploy to get him into that holding room and add more to his contract… He snorted because he knew there was fuck all he could do about it. If that was the case then they’d played him. Probably wasn't though. The shadow broker was good but not _that_ good. They’d probably just looked for a way to turn the situation to their favour to help one of their agents or interests.

Of course, that meant now he had to figure out if this _was_ an agent or if it was just some poor bastard pawn. And then he’d need to figure out what he had to help them with. Fuck this day.

He caught up to Shepard just outside of C-Sec. She stood in a corner with an open omnitool in a call and he settled against the wall to listen in.

“No.” She said in answer to a question the person on the other side must have asked, “I was let out. ... if it wasn't previously obvious, I believe I am being set up.”

“I’m afraid you’re right.” The person’s voice warbled oddly with the flickers of Shepard’s dying omnitool but Wrex could still hear it faintly from where he was, “Saren submitted evidence to the council moments after we did. Seems he inherited all of Nihlus’ files when he was confirmed dead and details of the mission and your involvement have already been leaked to the public. I’ve spoken to the lead detective, Vakarian, he’s convinced you didn’t do it but we’re coming up short on evidence besides say-so. This looks bad, kid.”

Shepard closed her eyes, breathing deep and hiding a wince before she said, “I see. Where is the detective now?”

“He’s not at the station?”

“No. Which is why I suspect my early release is not in my favour.”

She shifted as she spoke, leaning into the wall and for a moment her pale eyes flicked up to look around. If she saw him, her face didn’t betray it.

“I’ll make some calls,” her contact said, their image flickering wildly. “In the meantime keep your head down.”

She closed the call without saying anything more and walked stiffly towards one of the nearby shops. Wrex followed as he thought over what he’d heard. If she was on Saren’s hitlist and needed evidence… sounded like this was linked to Fist and the quarian. Explained the Broker’s bad mood. I also explained the willingness to send Wrex in when Wrex’s tactics were known to be less than delicate. Of course, it didn’t explain what ‘assist’ meant in this case. Was he just supposed to help her get the evidence needed? The quarian? Tell her that the quarian and by proxy Fist had the info she needed? Or was this more and he’d need to be on the lookout for people trying to take her out. He should probably charge more if it was all of the above…

Stepping into the shop that Shepard had disappeared into, Wrex looked around. She wasn’t there, but he could smell her. He shifted enough to look behind the counter to confirm that she wasn’t hiding there. As he leaned back up, he caught a hint of blue in the reflection behind him. Turning around he caught sight of her fleeing form as she slipped out the doors and away. Likely she'd hid just shy of the door and he only caught sight of her when she'd moved.

So she _had_ spotted him.

He chuckled. She was quick. Probably didn’t need his help. He could go back to C-Sec and find the cab he was promised and head towards Fist’s bar where the little bastard was assuredly hiding. She didn't need him and he wasn't interested in playing chase. Too old, too tired, and too cranky for that.

Wrex headed back and found the cab waiting. As he took a moment to gear up, that I’ve-been-at-this-too-long gut feeling that he was being watched started to sink in. A glance around revealed a couple C-Sec officers nearby but they were talking and their body language was too relaxed for it to be them. On a nearby bench was an air traffic control worker on break but the batarian was out cold with their lunch half touched. The other passerbys all seemed too busy and distracted. Wrex closed the cab door and stood aside it. There _had_ to be someone here. You don’t live to be over a thousand and not learn how to feel when you’re being watched. He disguised his search with pretending to read from his omnitool. On the far walkway he spotted Shepard. She’d undone her headwrap and now it sat more like a dalatrass hood as she limped down one of the walkways and out of sight. There was a moment when he thought that it might have been her watching him but the feeling still hadn’t abated even after she was gone. He shifted, trying to find the source up until he saw a salarian with a few badly concealed weapons slip down the same corridor as Shepard. With a growl, he headed for the same path towards the wards. The only thought as he walked was that if someone wanted to take another shot at him today then they had better not miss.

When he got to the hall that Shepard had disappeared down, he stopped to smell the air. He didn’t smell fear but there was a lingering hint of gun oil and general salarian scent-- something that permeated this whole damn station really. Then he heard it. The familiar thud of fist against body. There was a fight down the nearby maintenance alleyway and seconds later there was a flash of biotic blue and the salarian slammed rather bodily out and into the wall. Bleeding and weaving, they drew a gun and began firing wildly back down the alley. Wrex pulled his shotgun with a loud snarl and the salarian’s puny little pistol swung towards him. The shots barely stung after being slowed by his shields. Each shot was shrugged off till he came to stand over the bastard and fired a few warning blasts into their face. Now on top of the usual station smells the hall stank like blood. Not just salarian blood though, and he turned towards the darkened alley as he scented the copper tang that had entered the air. Human blood.

The alley was dark. Either Shepard or the salarian had knocked out the lights. On purpose or by accident, it didn’t matter but it did mean he couldn’t see shit. Starting up the flashlight program on his omnitool, he hefted his shotgun with his other hand and called into the darkness, “Shepard?”

The smell of human blood was thick in the enclosed space but there was no smell of death and bowels loosed just yet. At least not from her. He tilted his head to and fro, searching.

“Shepard, it seems someone wants you dead.” He spoke calmly thought he saw movement near one of the far panels. Looking revealed blood there but no body. He continued talking as he crouched down and pretended to examine the red splotches on the ground, hoping he might draw her out even if he in no mood to put up with games of hide-and-seek, “And I work for someone who seems to want the opposite of that.”

There was definitely movement nearby just behind one of the large power junction boxes to his left. He could see her silhouette just beyond it in the darkness as she leaned heavily against the wall. He didn’t turn his head though as he smelled a new problem. His watcher had followed them and he’d been… wrong. The traffic controller had not been asleep. In fact, he probably should have realized by the fact that they were batarian that they weren’t even an air traffic controller. You usually didn’t see batarians out of the lower wards on the citadel. Stupid.

This is how you get _killed_ , he chastised himself.

Unclipping his pistol, he slid it towards where he’d seen Shepard last before raising his shotgun and turning. There were two. Where the second one had been hiding was anyone's guess-- maybe the bastard had been radioed in-- but the two batarians stood at the end of the hall peering into the darkness.

 _This, this was going to be a problem_ , he thought as he stared at the gun the larger batarian was holding. The only thing that would save him if they fired was the distance. In fact, Wrex typically used a similar shotgun to the one that the batarian was using but he knew from experience it required you to be up close and personal. Too far and it might as well just be a blow job from a volus. That gave him something of a window and by the ancestors was he going to use it.

Wrex gave a yell, biotics rolling around him before he charged and he could see the realization in the larger batarian’s four eyes that they’d wildly underestimated him-- of course there were few krogan battlemasters even alive anymore so that wasn’t surprising-- even as they fired down to the last of their shotgun’s built up charges. Then both the batarian's broken bodies were sliding down the wall beside the salarian and Wrex was left feeling rather cheated. They hadn’t even bothered to wear armour or upgraded shields. Still, he glanced down at the new wounds that his suit had already pumped the last of his medigel to cover-- he’d need time to regenerate. It was a problem since every second Fist had to prepare meant more work for Wrex but with wounds like this, he would definitely need _time_.

He glanced down at the smaller batarian and realized that there was a hole in their head. Squatting, he peered at them. The charge probably would have killed them but that wasn’t what had done it. No. They’d been nailed split seconds before he’d hit with his biotic charge. Shifting, he cast a glance down the alley. Shepard leaned against the wall there, still mostly in the shadows and he could see the pistol he’d tossed her in her unbound hand.

Good shot.

Also good that she hadn't hit him because it had to have been close. He tended to appreciate when his rescues didn’t shoot him, but if it happened, well, it wouldn’t be the first time. He usually got paid more for those jobs though. Not like the Broker wasn’t paying well this time too but…

He nodded at her and then flicked a hand to point down the hall. “Likely more on the way.”

“Name.”

Mindful of his own freshly injured arm, he shifted the first body and began checking for spare credit chits or some sort of ident. The large batarian had a chit with enough on it to maybe get a meal but the other two were clean. As he riffled through the pockets he answered, “Wrex. Urdnot Wrex. Seems we’ve got a similar goal.”

“Which is?”

“Staying alive for one,” he said before finally standing and hefting the batarian’s gun. Had a good weight to it. Maybe he’d keep it.

“And?”

 _And? What did she think he was, an information broker_? He rolled a shoulder, feeling the sting of the spots that the pistol had hit. Bruises. Nothing more. The shotgun had done more damage. He huffed, dragging himself to his feet as he spoke, “Might know something that’ll help you. Prefer to get somewhere safer first though.”

When he heard a restrained grunt like she was trying to keep quiet he looked back towards her. Shepard slid down the wall with the kind of slowness that comes with someone fighting not to go down when their body isn’t listening. _Shit. Maybe that salarian bastard had gotten a lucky shot._ _That or she’d gotten hit by the shotgun spray._ It might only tickle for Wrex at that distance but he tended to forget that the other races were softer.

Wrex approached cautiously, still very aware that his pistol was in her hand. He squatted near her and looked her over now that she was closer to the light. Aside from her previous injuries, there was a fresh gash running from her neck to the arm that was restricted by a sling and he could see a dark patch of wetness on her side, staining the blue of her uniform into more of a black. Her omnitool was flickering wildly-- frozen-- and unable to fabricate any medigel thanks to it’s damaged state. Pity, he hadn’t thought to bring any extra of his own. Truth be told he hadn't exactly expected this job to go so badly that he’d use up his entire supply so that wasn't somehting he could change.

“You’re injured.”

It was kind of an obvious statement but it seemed the best thing to say. Eyes like hot blue flames opened and focused on him as she gave a very low chuckle. “Only a little.”

“Can you stand?”

She grunted, teeth gritting together in a silent snarl  that contorted the scar across her nose as she fought to get to her feet. He watched until she got halfway and began to fail. Shifting to the side with her good arm, he helped her the rest of the way up. After a quick check on his omnitool to make sure that he knew where they were, he said, “Clinic nearby. Think you can make it? Best to keep a hand free in case the need to shoot arises.”

Leaning into him, Shepard pulled off the sling from her injured arm and then shifted it to her waist. He helped her tug it to a tightness that would help put enough pressure on the wound till it could be handled later. Once that was done, she shifting her scarf to hide both new injuries and face. Once she was satisfied and she had the pistol in her injured free hand, he offered out his arm for her to lean on. She remained wordless but she gripped his offered limb with surprising strength for a human and they set off. The pace wasn’t quick but it was steady. However, he could tell with how she leaned on him that she wasn’t gonna get much farther without treatment. For a squishy human, she was remarkably durable, but in the end, she was still definitely human.

 

▄▄︻̷̿┻̿═━一 ~

 

Garrus chanced a glance over the reception desk he and Dr Michel had taken shelter behind-- the action nearly earned him an eyepatch as the shot from the assailant in the doorway hit the metal to make a fresh dent and chip smacked into his faceplate. He growled, low in his throat as he ducked back down. During the initial scuffle, the attacker had knocked away his service pistol-- too far to reach now before he’d get shot-- and someone had put a jamming signal over the clinic just after he’d arrived to try and chase a rumor.

The doctor was curled near the most protected part of the desk, arms over her head and limbs tucked close exactly as he’d instructed. The smaller a target she was the better. The shooter was-- at least-- not willing to come closer thanks to Garrus resorting to his omni-blade earlier in the fight and getting in a lucky slice. They were, however, content to pepper the desk with potshots though which worried him.

It meant they had time.

Either that meant they knew no one was coming, likely, or they were waiting for backup which was also likely. Or… they were trying to stall him. Garrus didn’t care for any of those possibilities but he was leaning heavily towards thinking it was the latter. This whole investigation was a ticking clock and he knew that they were running out of time. Feeling frustrated and desperate, he cast his gaze around the room. There was still nothing he could use close-by except an abundance of medigel if he actually did manage to get hit. 

Just after another shot pinged off the desk there was a much louder shot and a crunch. Garrus chanced a glance to see a krogan leading an injured human in, the assailant lay very dead in the doorway.

“There a doctor here?” the krogan asked, kicking aside the body so that the door could close behind him.

Dr Michel peeked out from her arms at Garrus, unwilling to move unless he gave the say-so and Garrus shook his head before he peeked back over the desk and asked, “Who’re you?”

The krogan stomped past as he helped the human onto one of the beds and glanced back to where Garrus was-- something about the human seemed familiar but he couldn’t see their face, just the heartrate reading that jumped at random with pain. The krogan seemed in a similar state but Garrus had found early that his visor struggled with the redundant organs that krogan had and they didn't give readings the way turians or humans did. Not enough of them visited the station either so there was no room for practice.

Garrus chanced a dash for his gun and after he snagged it, he aimed it at the krogan who was now taking a series of medigel packs from the wall dispenser. “I asked you who you are.”

The krogan paused, eyeing him critically. “C-Sec. Figures,” he muttered before turning away and heading back towards the human. “Name’s Wrex.  That one’s Shepard.”

Shepard.

Garrus lowered his gun as he looked at the human. It was definitely the Shepard he’d had in the holding room for the past handful of hours-- though her face was mostly covered by the scarf that had previously been covering her hair-fringe. Not that he suspected her of attempting to escape-- she didn’t seem the type-- but he was intensely curious as to why she was laying there in front of him and not in C-Sec headquarters.

“What are you doing out of the holding room?” Garrus asked her as he gave a nod towards Dr Michel who sprung from cover to sprint over to were Wrex and Shepard were.

Wrex fixed him with a red eyed glare as he answered in her stead, “They let us out.”

 _Damn_.

Must have been some mix-up at the station. That… or there was a little more to all of this than the eye could see. Though he’d already figured _that_. The question was, how much more _was_ there? He took a spot nearby that could watch the door while Dr Michel worked and he asked, “how was she hurt?”

“Assassins.” Wrex leaned back against the wall, hands crossed over his chest. “Cheap assassins, but I think they got lucky. Or, heh, as lucky as they could get before they died.”

 _Damn_. _Damn_. _Thrice damn_. It was possible someone was paid at the station to let her go so that they could try and kill her then. Then again she would have been in just as much danger if they ‘arrested’ an assassin and just shoved them into the holding room with her. Where she’d stood in the holding room suddenly made sense now too. Her prefered position of the far corner with a view of the door might have actually been safer though than the open space of the citadel where someone could get a surprise hit in. A sniper could easily take someone out if this krogan could get a shotgun like the one he carried now. He'd known there was a rising problem with people getting contraband and weapons onto the citadel but he'd never guessed it was this bad.

Dr Michel pulled away the uniform jacket and grey undershirt from Shepard’s side and Shepard made a strained whine. Garrus wasn't an expert on human physiology but he was pretty sure that wound wasn’t fatal even if it probably hurt like hell.  The doctor confirmed it for him as she wiped a sanitization wand over the wound with a scan. Her voice was as steady as her hands as she spoke conversationally, “So, Shepard is it? You're lucky, it looks like it’s gone straight through. Just some damaged tissue--”

“Doctor--” Shepard interrupted in a grunt-- “just patch it enough so I can get up and fight.”

Wrex chuckled. “Hn. Think I’m starting to like you, human.”

“There are probably more on the way. Best if the doctor gets somewhere safe. Populated restaurant or friend’s ---nnnngh--- place,” Shepard said through gritted teeth when Dr Michel touched near the wound. Dr Michel looked like she was going to argue even as Shepard continued, “Best if we are not here long.”

Wrex toyed with his shotgun, eyeing the door. “Let them come. I could use the chance to blow off some steam. Doesn’t help you stole that kill. Don’t think I didn’t notice.”

“Well,” Dr Michel huffed as she closed her omnitool and headed for one of her cabinets, “field medic patch job or not, you’re not going to be fighting anytime soon, Miss Shepard. When was the last time you ate?”

Shepard struggled to bring her flickering dead omnitool up to where she could see it before asking, “What time is it?”

“Fourth click,” Wrex answered, glancing at his own omni.

“Then I last ate, thirty-one hours ago.”

Garrus looked away, feeling a pang of rising guilt. He’d meant to grab something for her after the interrogation but then he’d gotten called in by Executor Pallin to report on what he’d found so far-- aka nothing-- and then he’d had to make a formal appearance to let the council know his investigation had only proved that there was no actual evidence against Shepard. Then he’d forgotten. He'd been in the middle of a quick nap, shower and scarfing down some old leftovers when one of his contacts alerted him to the rumours of a wounded quarian claiming to have information recently being seen in the wards. He’d gone to ask around at the nearby clinics without a second thought.

Dr Michel tutted, pulling out a bottle of pills when she didn’t seem to find what she was looking for.  “Damn. All I have are fast release pills for blood donors. I thought I had someth--”

“That is not necessary,” Shepard rasped, sitting up and accepting a medigel pack from Wrex as her scarf fell away. “I can keep going.”

Dr Michel-- who was normally calm and more on the meek side-- came and blocked Shepard from standing as she said, “Shepard, I don’t know where you’re from but you will take this damn pill and you will lay there in that bed for at least the next five minutes while I apply that medigel properly or so help me I will use an anaesthesia and you won't be getting up for several hours. Now-- Sit. Down.”

Shepard stared at her. The unwavering pale gaze and flat expression never changed but Garrus could see the slight increase to her heart rate before she leaned stiffly back onto the bed. Dr Michel, pleased that her patient was not longer trying to run off, went back over to her sink and cabinet area. When she came back it was with a small vial of water and likely one of the pills in a small cap. Garrus watched with amusement as Shepard eyed the doctor like a weary varren watches someone with a shock-stick all through the silent taking of the medicine.

When Dr Michel was cleaning and treating the nasty cut that spanned from neck to arm-- likely from an omni-blade if he recognized the burned tint to her flesh-- Shepard said, “Wrex.”

The big krogan cracked open one red eye, the pupil dilating in the light and Garrus was guessing that he’d been doing some regenerative napping while waiting. “Shepard,” Wrex acknowledged.

“Said you knew something.”

Wrex shifted, taking weight off the leg that was dotted in auto-applied medigel under the holes of his armour as he answered, “I said I _might_ know something. There’s a quarian who might have evidence against the one who set you up. Least if what I’ve heard is right. They’re probably dead by now though. Saren’s cleaning house.”

Garrus jerked at the mention of the quarian. “What do you know about the quarian?”

“Not much. I was hired to kill the guy who decided to sell her to Saren.”

“You realize I’m a C-Sec officer,” Garrus said flatly. “And you just admitted to being hired to kill someone.”

“Yeah and I’d love to see you try to stop--”

“Company.” Shepard interrupted pulling the doctor down to lay beneath the bed. As she forced herself unsteadily to her feet, shadows moved along the frosted outer window in the hurried crouch common amongst miliary and mercenary alike.  Everyone scattered to various points and Garrus noticed Shepard had a pistol-- something she must have picked up with the krogan-- as she moved to take cover in his old position behind the desk. The door opened to the two soldiers that had given their testimony of the happenings on eden prime. Upon seeing Wrex and Garrus they each slipped to either side of the door and raised their guns.

Wrex cocked his gun but Shepard held up a fist as she called, “Williams? Alenko?”

“Sir,” Williams said, peeking into the room. “Anderson said you might need help.”

“Then I am sure he told you what you need to say.”

Alenko and Williams shared a glance before Alenko said, “You left your duffle on the wrong side of the bed?”

“Alright.” Shepard, grunted as she leaned back against the little half-wall. “Get in. Make sure the door shuts.”

“Can I come out now?” Dr Michel asked from under the bed where Shepard had put her.

Shepard, to Garrus’ surprise, chuckled before she muttered. “Tempted to say no.”

He caught Shepard's eye and at her small nod, Garrus said, “It’s safe, Doctor. But Shepard's right, it may be safer to change locations.”

Dr Michel dusted herself off as she stood. The expression on her face said annoyed but her micro-expressions and heart rate said scared shitless. Still, she headed for were Shepard sat on the floor just as one of the soldiers did.

“Sir, you’re wounded.” Alenko said, coming to kneel near Shepard.

“So you have eyes.” Shepard muttered, her own eyes drifting closed. “Nice to know.”

 _She must be exhausted,_ Garrus thought as Dr Michel opened another scan and huffed. “Your sugar levels are still too low. Just a moment, I’ll see if I can find something else.”

Alenko shifted digging in one of his leg pouches. “Doctor, wait, I might have something. Biotic glucose crash right? Probably made worse by bloodloss...” At her nod, he held out a silver packet. “Shepard.”

Shepard cracked open an eye. Seeing the packet, she huffed a tired sigh and grabbed it. After taking a ponderously slow bite and swallowing, Shepard asked, “Anderson send anything with you?”

By Alenko’s grin Garrus was guessing that Anderson had. “How’d you know, sir?”

She gave a noncommittal grunt from behind the last of the foil packet meal she’d unceremoniously shoved in her mouth as Alenko passed over items. Garrus wasn’t quite sure what in all they were but he did see two odd hand sized tubes and what he thought were a few stim packets. “Oh--” Alenko pulled something out of a separate pouch-- “and Dr. Chakwas said you’d need this. ...It’s not a sniper visor, is it, sir?”

“No.” Shepard struggled her way to her feet as she pressed a visor over the eye he’d seen her close in the past. “Corrective display.” She shrugged off the ruined jacket and tossed it at Alenko as she said, “Give that to Anderson. Tell him I'll need a new one.”

“Sir--”

“I want you to take Dr Michel to either her office or somewhere safe,” Shepard said, ignoring the protests from her team and the doctor as she clipped the little tubes onto a pair of suspenders that lay overtop her grey sleeveless shirt. “No doubt Anderson gave you access to use the link. Use it to find my next location when you finish-- assuming you want to return that is.”

Alenko and Williams shared another look before Williams said, “Comman--”

“Eh,” Shepard grunted, picking up her scarf from where it had been left on the bed. “Not anymore.”

“Bullshit, sir.”

There was a slight bump in Shepard’s heart rate and for a moment Garrus thought it was anger until he saw her face. Her head tilted with surprise as she blinked. “Excuse?”

Williams straightened like a fresh cadet who was about to take a verbal lashing as she said. “I said bullshit, sir. And when this is all over I’d like to accept that transfer, sir. Assuming the offer is still open.”

Shepard stepped up to Williams and her blue eyes narrowed for a moment before she clasped the other woman on the shoulder and Garrus could see the hint of a smile as she said. “Let Anderson know. I had the files prepped before this, he can get that ball spinning. Priority right now though is to get civilians out of danger.”

As Shepard stepped back and began adjusting her scarf to sit over her head and face, Williams gave a tight salute, her face breaking into a grin. “Yessir.”

Dr Michel crossed her arms. “And I don’t get a say?”

“Doctor--” Garrus holstered his gun as he walked over and put a hand on her shoulder-- “Listen, Chloe, that gunner could have been here for either of us. It’s best if you get somewhere safe. This isn’t a prime location and it’ll likely get more dangerous.”

Her heart rate sped up in his visor and she looked away, her cheeks flushing to a slightly pinker tone. “Fine. Come back and visit sometime after this though, okay?”

“If I have time doctor,” Garrus said with a nod as he stepped back.

She left with the soldiers with only a slight backwards glance and Garrus found himself and Wrex following behind Shepard who limped purposefully towards one of the ward map displays. She stood, looking over the map-- her expression unreadable thanks to the scarf covering her mouth-- and Garrus fidgeted. Technically he should try to get her back to headquarters but… they were running low on time and the quarian might be their only lead. Wherever they were...

“Shepard,” Wrex grumbled, “you heading for Fist?”

She didn’t turn as she asked, “Who is Fist?”

“Owner of Chora’s Den. One I was hired to kill.”

Her hand moved, typing in Chora’s Den as a destination and getting a cheerful little marker and suggested route.

“He had the quarian?”

Wrex nodded. “Last I heard.”

“Then yes.”

Tipping his head, Wrex took the lead-- carefully eyeing around each corner before proceeding. Garrus adjusted his grip on his own gun at the suspicious lack of ‘people’ in their location of the wards. The only one who didn’t seem perturbed by it all or on high alert was Shepard. Her gun was holstered-- though one of her hands remained near one of the strange tubes on her chest holster at all times but other than that she seemed relaxed as she followed behind the large krogan.

She didn’t even seem ruffled when shots peppered the alley they were in. Leaning against the wall as Wrex peeked out she asked, “How many?”

“Six.” He said, backing up himself. “Looks like they got smart. Set up shop at the end of the hall. Two snipers. An asari.”

“Hm.”

“Think you can hit 'em?” Wrex asked glancing out, “If you can get those two I can get the others.”

Garrus harrumphed, “You do realize I’m here too.”

The big krogan fixed him with another one of those glares that made him feel entirely too judged. “Hadn’t noticed.”

He was baiting. Garrus knew it. By the crinkle near Shepard’s eyes even she probably knew it. Still, Garrus really, _really_ wanted to go for it. Instead, he tipped his head towards one of the other routes and said, “could go that way. They can’t have blocked everywhere.”

Shepard took a breath-- more of a sigh really-- before she said, “They could have. We gave them enough time. Officer Vakarian, exactly how much time do you spend at the range?”

 _Was that a lucky guess_? He raised a brow plate at her. “Often enough.”

“Didn’t even have his gun on him in the clinic,” Wrex grumbled.

Garrus opened his mouth to argue, finally caving, when instead Shepard tugged the krogan past her so that she could look out. Her heart rate only bumped momentarily though her actions were calm as she leaned out of the way of a scattering of shots. “Can you shoot accurately at eighty meters?”

He grimaced. “Not without a rifle. The venting system and artificial gravity messes with this pistol past fifty. Won't penetrate shields even if you hit the target.”

“I see. ...Wrex, how far can you accurately charge?”

His red eye tipped so that he could stare at her as he answered. “Not that far, Shepard. I’d say thirty max. Forty is pushing it but I won't hit hard at that distance.”

She simply nodded again before closing her eyes.

“Shepard?” Garrus asked feeling a sinking feeling.

With eyes still closed she pressed a finger to her lips. They stood like that in silence until her hand finally pulled one of the tubes from its holster and the tube expanded in a series of deadly soft clicks to form a lengthly and lethal looking blade. Then he realized what prompted her movement. There were very faint, soft, careful footsteps coming down the hall. She held up three fingers. _Two_. **One**. He realized it was a countdown as she slid around the wall-- skin glowing with biotics-- and slammed into the poor bastard who’d been stupid enough to get close. Readying his pistol Garrus dashed out and took aim at the nearest enemy that wasn’t being held shield-like by Shepard as she advanced like a death-wish down the hall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meant to post this sooner but these last few weeks have been just really amazing and busy. ( Heck yeah I'm on T finally! Yeah baby! T-date 6-07-18 which honestly is like the coolest date. I'm jazzed about it obviously.) Thank yall who've stuck around! Love ya!


	4. Appraisal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _ Appraisal: (noun) an act of assessing something or someone. _

~├﴾O﴿┤~

Too badly paraphrase her daughter's favorite book, Emily Wong was having a no good, very bad, fucking awful day. It had been her average lead chase for the next ‘big’ story. Somehow her leads never seemed to really pan out and she was always stuck writing stupid fluff pieces on washing hair and buffing face-plates but this time… well this time was different. She’d gone down to a skeevy lower wards bar after a tip from a friend and suddenly next thing she knew there were guns in her face and she was hoisted off her barstool and into a back office. That was where she'd wanted to get, yes, but not with her hands zip-tied and a jittery guard aiming a pistol at her head. They didn't even have the decency to use the comfortable zip-ties either!

Worst of all-- she was starting to feel like she needed to sneeze.

Emily wrinkled her nose, quietly sniffing in an attempt to get rid of the sensation without making her jumpy guard pull the trigger to the gun aimed her direction. It didn’t help. The urge didn’t dissipate and to top it off the twitchy salarian’s eyes bugged as he nudged his partner. “What’s it doing? Do humans spit venom? Should we have gagged it? Will gagging it prevent it from spitting? Or do they spit through the upper ports? What section would it spit from?”

The krogan-- a very tired looking young bouncer who’d been fairly nice up until the whole zip-tie and guard business-- gave a sigh as he rumbled, “No. Humans don’t have venom. It’s just dusty since Fist turned down the ventilation cycles to save credits. I’d sniff too but then I’d have to smell you and your damn fear stink.”

“I d-don’t stink!”

“You do. You smell like a cornered pyjak and you’ve got about as much brains as one. It’s a wonder your clan let you leave your homeworld at all.”

“They didn’t. I left on my own,” the salarian answered sulkily. “Just didn’t think there’d be so many humans on the citadel. I didn’t finish my courses on other races.”

It’s not every day that you see a salarian pout. Of course, most of them don’t have the IQ range of a piece of dry toast but either way this one seemed to be hellbent on breaking preconceptions. So he sat there, stupidly pouting while Emily, in turn, was trying to keep a lid in the disaster that wanted to spray from her face. When it started to get to be too much, Emily spoke in a strained nasal tone, “godda ‘neeze.”

The krogan, thank whatever gods and ancestors there were, didn’t turn around as he reached back and jerked the Salarian’s gun to point at the ceiling just as the first sneeze hit. One sneeze turned into three and by the time she finished the salarian was in a wild ranting panic as it flailed on the ground.

“VENOM! POISON! IT GOT ME!”

Emily could almost SEE the thought process as the krogan stared down at the writhing Salarian and then at the gun they were still holding. She would have raised her hands if she could as she joked, “If you shoot him I won't tell if you won’t.”

“It’s tempting,” he said before simply holstering the gun on his thigh clip and facing the door once more as he continued, “But I’m pretty sure he can just stupid himself to death.”

There wasn’t really time to tell if that would be the case though when there was a massive explosion from out in the lobby. A few minutes later a couple frantic and hastily armoured looking workers dressed in what must have been Fist’s spare product barged through the door. She didn’t have time to feel glee about her hunch about Fist’s smuggling being right before there was another explosion-- this time much closer. The workers took refuge on either side of the door and Emily took advantage of the guard’s attention being elsewhere as she rolled over and inch wormed her way under the table. Unfortunately, her shirt-- definitely not made for crawling around under furniture-- got caught on the underside of the desk and she was faced with forcing herself forward and ripping it or just staying in a terribly awkward position until someone moved her.

If only it wasn’t her favourite damn shirt.

Her unwillinness to rip the shirt won in the end and she simply decided that she'd move if she really had to. As the gunfire, yelling and loud explosions came closer everyone was terrified and tense. One of the workers had dropped his gun and was simply praying, the old antique earth religion beads slipping between their fingers one by one as they babbled towards the ceiling. Emily wasn’t much of a believer herself-- not after losing her wife to a hack doctor in the wards-- but she loosed a few destinationless prayers herself as a scream echoed outside the door along with a meaty crunch.

Then silence.

The salarian who’d previously gone deathly still started to get up, rolling over and using the krogan’s leg as leverage as they started to push to their feet. The worker who wasn’t busy praying and openly fear-sobbing edged over and touched the panel to open the door. There was a collective intake of breath just before their hand pressed the button--

And the door slid open to reveal a group of bloodied and rather angry mercenaries.

Dropping their weapon, the worker who’d opened the door backed away with raised hands, “Please! Don’t shoot!”

The leader was a short human female who was absolutely _covered_ in blood and wielding a mag-lock sword. She stepped forward with cold calculating eyes that were surprisingly pale compared to her skin. Those same cold eyes roamed over the room to stop at Emily who was laying awkwardly with her bound hands and ass in the air from trying to wriggle beneath the desk.

The woman’s gun came up slowly and Emily was pretty sure she could taste her heartbeat as her brain suddenly recognized the scars and put a name to the blood covered face. Commander Shepard. Butcher of Torfan. The grim goddamn reaper herself. Whoever was behind her wasn’t nearly half as scary and Emily was pretty sure her very blood froze as The Butcher took a step into the room and said, “This is your only warning-- Raise your weapon and you die.”

Still hanging off the krogan’s leg, the salarian didn't seem to care as he scrabbled for the gun in the holster. As he tugged fruitlessly at the gun from the wrong angle he blathered something about hating humans and their venom spray-sacks. In a swift movement, the krogan tilted his gun, shot him and lowered it once more as he said, “Fist hasn’t paid me in two weeks. You’ll get no trouble from me.”

As he lumbered past the group, hustling the still shaken workers out with him as he nodded to the old red krogan in Shepard’s group, “Urdnot.”

“Khel,” the red krogan answered back with a weary nod.

If anything else was exchanged between the krogan, Emily didn’t get to see it as The Butcher’s blood-covered boots came to fill her vision. Above her Shepard towered, and Emily wasn’t sure exactly what was planned when that blade came forward and Emily could feel it touch briefly along her spine.

Then the ties were cut and she was being sat up.

“Name?”

Emily rubbed her wrists and tried to ignore the relieved rush of blood that made her vision swim as she said, “Emily Wong. Freelance investigative journalist. Ma’am.”

She really hoped that adding ma’am on the end would get her the brownie points to not have the commander wear her spleen for a hat. She didn't usually interact with the dangerous types. No, most of her interviews were low priority people-- the thirty seconds of fame types that people liked to read about maybe once. Shepard reached up and used a hand to tilt Emily’s head to look at a spot that someone had hit during their initial grab and drag. She’d actually forgotten about it until Shepard was there. Staring at it. Examining.

To her immense surprise, Shepard accepted the medical pouch that one of her group offered her. She was wiping down Emily’s forehead with a swab when she asked, “Why are you here, Miss Wong?”

“I was chasing a lead on corruption and organized crime in the citadel.  I was trying to get into Fist’s office to look at his files and get proof but I… got caught. Actually, I was still at the bar. Chatting up a waitress... More of the planning stage, really.”

“Hm.” Shepard paused, her eyes darting to meet Emily’s and for a brief second the cold blue actually looked friendly. The second didn’t last long though as the commander looked away again, her hands deftly smoothing an emergency medigel patch over Emily’s forehead as she said, “Interesting. Is a story worth your life?”

“I barely make enough right now to pay for my apartment and my daughter's biotic lessons. If I can get a good high-interest story my boss will give me a raise. So… yeah.”

And it would mean she’d qualify for the next level of insurance and her HRT would be covered instead of out of pocket like it was now, but they didn't need to know that. Shepard tugged her to her feet and Emily realized that she was quite a bit taller than the Legendary Butcher and standing above the legend… well, the intimidation was still there but Shepard didn't seem _quite_ so terrifying.

The turian of the group came back from checking one of the attached rooms, his voice brimming with an annoyed bur as he shook his head, “Not there. Looks like he ran.”

“Can’t run forever,” the krogan said leaning against the far doorway, “We haven’t gotten through all the mercenaries he’d have on-station but not a lot of people are stupid enough to go against the Broker once a hits been called. … I’ll call an information broker who might be able to help. They owe me a favour anyhow.”

Emily glanced between them wondering if she should put forth what she overheard. The deciding factor was the perturbed look on Shepard’s face as she absently bit at her lips and grimaced when tasting the blood. That little action made her seem… human. Trustworthy.

 _Plus_ , Emily reasoned with herself, _if she could get Commander Shepard on as a contact then that might prove useful in the future_. After all who knows when they might need The Butcher as back-up?  _Oh, who was she kidding_? She just didn’t want to get on the commander's BAD side. That and Emily felt-- ever so slightly-- as if she owed the Commander for rescuing her.

Emily raised a hand cautiously-- a habit she’d never broken from her school days-- as she said, “I might something. But I’d like something in exchange.”

The last part she blurted without thinking and instantly regretted it as all eyes turned on her. She imagined it was like what being surrounded by a pack of wild varren must feel like.  Emily clasped her hands together to keep them from shaking as she said, “I want data copies from Fist’s terminal but I can tell you what I overheard.”

The turian stepped forward and Emily noticed the C-Sec emblem on the shoulder of his armour as she mentally face-palmed. This request would be frowned upon by C-Sec if not outright denied. There were rumours that there was corruption in the ranks-- along with gross overworking and mismanagement of the resources but that was just a rumour. Still, if this guy was C-Sec he could do something nasty like pull her licence for that request.

Shepard held up a fist, stopping him in his tracks as she said, “I may be willing to pass you information-- if it does not adversely affect any open investigations being conducted by uncorrupted C-Sec officers.”

“So…” Emily couldn’t help it as her fingers almost eagerly twitched for the recorder on her omnitool as she asked, “Do you suspect that there are corrupt officers within--”

“I do not advise continuing,” Shepard cut her off as she flicked her sword to collapse and holster it.

“I… right. YeAh,” Emily said, her voice breaking nervously as she remembered who she was dealing with. She edged towards the door as she pointed towards the far door that was Fist’s office. “That’s fair. Fist was escorting a Quarian. He didn’t say where but he said he’d leave his link location active in case he needed back-up. You could probably trace it. I, uhm, I’m gonna go.”

“Miss Wong--”

Shepard took a step towards her and Emily couldn’t help but cringe. If Shepard planned on saying anything else it was lost in the tight line her lips took and the hard edge of her eyes. Emily simply nodded at her and booked it for the door. It was probably for the best that she did too because she’d made it to the nearest cab call-station when a couple of cabs bristling with cheaply armed mercenaries landed and they streamed towards the club.

Only once she was in the cab did Emily realize that she had completely failed to pass along her communication codes.

“Fuck my life,” she said with a mutter as she flopped into the backseat and headed for home.

 

~╔((ῼ))╗~

 

Tali nervously adjusted the oxygen purification rate on her helmet for what felt like the sixtieth time. She knew it was a little on the high side at this point but the fever from exposure and her wound was making her desperately uncomfortable. With any luck, she could leave this blasted station soon-- she just had to hold out and get her information to the Shadow Broker. To be honest she’d never intended to sell the information but the council refused to see her no matter how she tried and poor Keenah…

 _Don’t think about that right now_ , she chastised herself as she shifted in the cab seat. These seats might be designed for comfort but nothing was comfortable with the wound in her side and a fever that made everything ache.  At least the assassin was dead. It wasn’t really any consolation for Keenah but at least it meant she could breathe for a moment. A moment, however, was all she was allowed because now she was to deal with the Shadow Broker and that was sure to be a dangerous affair.

In the front seat, the human, Fist, was shifting nervously. He’d been on edge ever since he’d agreed to take her to meet the legendary Broker. Too nervous. Frankly, Tali didn’t trust the human about as much as she could throw him and in her current state she’d be lucky if she could throw the last of her homemade smoke bombs. At least he didn’t seem to have any anti-quarian hang-ups. Most humans didn’t and she was finding it to be an almost refreshing change even if she didn’t trust _this_ one. Of course, all of that might change once the humans had been part of the galactic community for a few more years. That bile seemed to seep into the cultural cracks eventually.

Tali sniffled, trying to ignore her uncomfortably runny nose and just appreciate the fact that her suit’s breathing filters were working as well as they were thanks to the doctor who’d patched her up. It had been a lucky find, really.  More-so because also being treated by the doctor had been a volus who pointed her here and here-- for the moment-- was safe.

As the cab landed, Fist started to look more agitated but some of that she was chalking up to the fact that there had been assassins being sent after her almost as soon as she’d gotten the info. She was a dangerous package. Anyone rational would probably be nervous in this circumstance, right? Still… something about how nervous he was didn’t sit right with her. He reminded her of Prazza when he’d stolen one of her toys and didn’t want her to find out. Unlike Prazza however, Tali didn’t expect Fist to hand the toy over and apologize.

The dark feeling in her gut that told her something was wrong only grew as she noticed that they were in what definitely could be considered the shady warehouse section far below the outer docks. She’d never been to the citadel before this but she knew the makings of a bad neighbourhood when she saw one. Usually, it was all the trash that was a dead giveaway and this place had plenty to spare. Fist headed for the maintenance alley between warehouses. The lights of the alley were nothing but cheap emergency lighting and there was a suspect smear by the steps that dropped into the darkness.

Tali’s steps slowed. Sure, it’s possible that the legendary Shadow Broker had holed up here. Hidden in the depths of the citadel it was entirely plausible. And also not. She took an involuntary step backwards and Fist turned to look back at her. He grimaced, coming back up the steps as he spoke, “It’s just through here. Set up the meeting myself.”

 _That’s what I’m afraid of_ , Tali thought as her lips pressed tightly together.

If the olfactory simulators of her suit hadn’t been damaged and her nose wasn’t running off her face she would have said this smelt like a trap. As it was, she was kind of glad she couldn’t smell. Especially as she took a cautious step forward and realized she could see the bright blue fur of a dead rat laying in the garbage that surrounded the mouth of the alley. 

Cautiously Tali made her way into the alley and down the steps. Aside from the garbage and malfunctioning lights, it looked like most of the other maintenance alleys she’d ducked in and out of while avoiding the assassin. Fist was waiting for her at the far side of the alley and beside him was a shadow.

A turian shadow.

 _Trap. Trap. Trap. Trap_. Her nerves jangled like alarm bells. Fist lit one of the smoke sticks that humans and batarians alike seemed to enjoy sucking and in the brief light, she could see it wasn’t the same turian from the recording she’d pulled.  That didn’t do much to assuage her fears though since the last assassin had been turian and this was just… too shady.

Her hand inched into her thigh pouch to grip the last of her homemade smoke bombs as she stopped at the foot of the stairs. When she spoke, her voice sounded much braver than she felt, “Where’s the Shadow Broker?”

The turian walked over to her. His steps were predatory. Measured. The metal of his suited shoes clicked faintly with every step. After he’d reached her he began to circle as he leaned in to whisper, “and what makes you think I’m not?”

 _Instinct_? She held her answer down though on the very, very slim off-chance that her gut was wrong.

He stopped the second time around just behind her as he asked, “And what do you have for the Broker?”

Tali sidestepped away from him. This didn’t feel right. She backed away, watching his hands as she headed for the exit. “Deals off. Don’t bother following me.”

Fist stepped out to block her as he growled, “That’s not how this works, girl.”

There was a split second that he started to reach for her until his eyes trailed upwards, past her and the so-called Shadow Broker and to the top of the stairs. She only glanced, catching sight of silhouette before she slammed down the smoke grenade and made a break for the stairs behind Fist. She was halfway up when the ‘Broker’s body slammed into the wall next to her with a small human atop him. The human sprang off and at Tali-- no-- OVER Tali. They sailed over and tackled one of the two gun-wielding salarians who must have come out of hiding when Tali looked away.

The salarian not currently being grappled by the human raised his gun and Tali fisted her hand in the emergency overload gesture she’d programmed into her omnitool. With a flick the electric current arced in a bright flash from her to the salarian who screamed as she dodged away.

“Shepard! Fist is coming your way!” A booming voice of a krogan called from the alley.

Tali was shoved roughly aside at the mouth of the alley by the human who must be Shepard as they rushed forward and tackled Fist. He screamed like a newborn as they shoved one of their giant thin knives through his leg, drew another, and biotically slammed down the hall into a new wave of mercenaries that had just come round the corner.

As far as she could see there was no way out even once she was out of the alley. Fighting on both sides and no clear exit-- Tali decided to join the fray. Years of extra combat training thanks to her father’s insistence came in handy as she grabbed one of the salarian’s guns and started trying to pick off stragglers as the human Shepard wove a deadly biotic dance. Then, almost as quickly as it had started… it stopped. Everything was quiet with nothing but the citadel ventilation fans to fill the silence.

The human-- much shorter than Fist had been even before he was pinned to the floor with a giant knife-- limped over to Tali. “Are you injured?”

Tali set to quickly checking for any new suit alerts while trying to feel if there were any new pangs of pain that she hadn't noticed in the commotion. There was a scratch from a stray or simply bad shot that burned along her arm but the clamps of her suit had already dispensed medigel and closed the area down. Since it wasn’t like she could get another fever she just shrugged. “I can look after my--”

Tali jumped as the boom of a shotgun filled the hall behind her and she whirled, raising her gun. Standing above Fist was a krogan. His red plates were pale at the tips from his age and he looked around with a bland expression as he asked, “What? I told you I had a contract.”

“Hm,” Shepard said before jerking her knife out of the corpse. “Warning those around you before a loud noise is preferable.”

A turian who must have been with the group just rubbed absently behind his fringe with a sigh as he gave a mutter about paperwork. Tali’s attention, however, returned to Shepard when the human gave a small bow and said, “I am Com--… Shepard.” Shepard paused, clearing her throat and looking away before continuing, “I am looking for a quarian who may have evidence about who was behind the attack on Eden Prime. Are you that quarian?”

“And if I am?” Tali asked.

“Then with your permission, we will go to a safer location and present the evidence to the council.”

“I already tried,” Tali said, resisting the urge to sniffle. Now that the battle was over her body seemed determined to remind her that it was fighting off whatever she’d picked up with her brief exposure and injury. “They turned us away and told us we had one day-cycle to leave the station. Why shouldn’t I just leave?”

Shepard stepped aside, gesturing down the empty hall. The gesture revealed a thick medigel patch on her side, the red of human blood was a dark bloom around the wound though it was obviously not quite as fresh as some of the other wounds and blood she was covered in. Tali was not very good at reading the faces of the other races but when Shepard spoke, Tali believed her when she said, “I will not stop you.”

Hoping that she wasn’t about to regret this, Tali collapsed her scavenged gun as she asked, “You didn’t know if I had the information?”

“No. Technically… I still don’t.”

“And you just jumped in to help a quarian for no reason?”

“I have many reasons,” Shepard answered, her bright blue eyes staring up at Tali. “All of them define me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Author note:** Hey there, MB here! How's everyone doing? Okay, I hope. So I posted the last chapter a good, what, six months ago? XD I really did mean to keep going but my health decided to take a bad turn. I'm back up now though and plugging along. I hope you enjoyed this chapter (I know my spouse did. I love watching him read and asking which parts he was laughing at. Wanna share what part made you laugh? I'd love to hear!) I'd really wanted to add some interest to the sideline characters like Emily, Chakwas, and Kal'Reegar. Sure I'm not there yet but you know, fingers crossed and all that there will be more like this in the future. I really wanted to try driving the story forward with 'outside' perspectives. Maybe it's going well? idk? 
> 
> Well, no matter what I hope you enjoyed reading!  
>  _~ Mister B._

**Author's Note:**

> To all yall who stuck around-- your love and encouragement is what keeps me going. To all yall who're new-- welcome and thank you so, so much for reading and I hope that this doesn't disappoint.  
> ♥ Love yall! ♥


End file.
